The Curse of the Crying Boy
by IndieGothGirl
Summary: The Doctor and Jamie arrive in the city of Rotherham, 1985 where a serious of mysterious fires has struck. Can the Doctor solve the mystery before its too late and just what links the fires to the eerie Crying Boy paintings? Rated T for peril.
1. Prologue

Author's note: Hi everyone finally managed to finish typing up the second story in my Doctor Who serial featuring the 11th Doctor, Jamie McCrimmon, Amy and Rory. I would recommend reading my other story _Highlander and the Sea Monster _first as this follows on from there. I will try and post the chapters as frequently as I can.

It may be a while before I get the other stories in the serial finished due to university commitments.

Disclaimer: Doctor Who and its respective creations belong to the BBC and their respective creations. I own nothing just using them for this fanfic. Some characters are original creations invented for the purpose of the story. Although, the characters are fictional the plot is based on an actual event.

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><p><strong>The Curse of the Crying Boy<strong>

**Prologue **

_Rotherham, South Yorkshire, 1985_

It was an ordinary back-to-back row of terraced houses, typical of a working-class, northern, town such as Rotherham. Two rows of red bricked Victorian-built houses separated by roads which lead up to the Beatson Clark Glasswork factory at the end of the street.

In the middle of the left side of the street lived Ralf and Mary Butcher. They had both grown up in the street and, when Ralf had followed his father into the glasswork factory, they had seen no reason to leave the street in which they had been raised.

Like all the houses in the street, Ralf and Mary's house was a modest affair. They, like their neighbours, were not wealthy people yet, as was often the way of Northern working-class families, they were house proud and, although their home was modest, they kept it as clean and tidy as though it were a palace.

Amongst their belongings were many trinkets and gifts which, although may have seemed tacky and cheap, were cherished gifts and mementos from friends and family, some of whom had long passed away.

Among these mementos was an unusual kitsch print of a small boy with tears streaming down his face. The painting was entitled _The Crying Boy_. Originally painted by a Spanish artist Bruno Amandio, who went by the pseudonym, Giovanni Bragolin, _the Crying Boy _became so popular during the 1960s and 1970s that many artists made their own version of Bragolin's weeping boy. This particular copy had belonged to Mary's mother whom had given it pride of place in her living room. Mary could recall the painting hanging proudly above the hearth in her childhood home for all to see. When her mother had passed away, and Mary and her sisters had had to sort out her possessions, Mary had requested the copy of _the Crying Boy_painting. Her sisters had agreed to this without hesitation. They all thought the painting was hideous and were glad not to have had it fostered upon them.

For his part Ralf was mainly indifferent to the painting. He understood the memories of her childhood that its presence in their house brought back to his wife and so, for that reason he tolerated it. Other than that he would never understand why anyone would have wanted such a miserable image hanging on the wall. After all, who would think that a small boy in tears would make a good subject to paint? Ralf had thought to himself on numerous occasions.

DWDWDW

'I'm off up to bed, love,' Mary hollered from the landing. 'Make sure all t' lights are off before you come up, will you, Ralf.' 'Aye, alright, love,' he called back up the stairs before settling down to watch the news. Before long Ralf felt his eyelids grow heavy and began to sink heavily into his chair. His head rolled to the side, slightly and he was soon fast asleep, snoring heavily.

Hours passed, Mary slept snuggling in her bed while, downstairs, Ralf snored of the couch. The night was still an silent and the only sound could be heard was the drown of the television as the closedown sequence came to an end.

In the kitchen sat the chip pan. Unfortunately, neither Ralf nor Mary had realised that they had left the chip pan on.

Suddenly flames began rising from it. The flames rose higher and higher; engulfing the whole kitchen in flames and smoke and spending to the rooms beyond. Perhaps it would've been alright if Ralf or Mary had left the kitchen door closed but, unfortunately, for whatever reason it had been forgotten and left open giving the fire the chance to quickly spread.

The first Ralf got to know of the fire was when the smoke alarm, which hung above the kitchen doorway, began to sound. Unfortunately, the alarm was highly temperamental and prone to sounding at the slightest hint of smoke.

'Stupid thing!' Ralf muttered as he stumbled awake, before he began to cough and splutter from the effects of the smoke.

Opening his eyes Ralf saw the flames which had engulfed the kitchen and were rapidly spending throughout the dining room. Realising that he and his wife's lives were at risk he hollered up the stairs: 'Mary, wake up t' house is on fire!'

A few second pause and then he could hear the shuffling sound of Mary's slippers on the landing and the landing light being switched on 'Tha what, Ralf!' she yelled back. 'I said the house is on fire!'

Mary dashed down the stairs as fast as she could and flung open the living room door. 'What do you mean t' house is on fire!' she began to say but stopped when she saw the flames rising from the kitchen. 'Come on,' Ralf cried, 'let's get out of here!'

DWDWDW

By the time they had got into the street the neighbours had already been awoken by the commotion. Curtains twitched and faces appeared at the windows, all eager to see what was going on. Suddenly, their next-door-neighbour, a blonde-haired lady called Jean Clarke came out of her house and rushed over to where Ralf and Mary were now standing, a safe distance away from the house. 'What on earth has happened?' she asked. 'It's our house,' Mary explained. 'It's on fire!' 'I'll get Jack to ring the fire bridge!' Jean replied, her eyes wide in shock.

DWDWDW

Several hours later and the fire had been put out. The building was dripping wet and the windows had been charred and blackened by the soot which had risen through the floors.

The fireman switched of their hose as Ralf and Mary came running over. 'Did anything survive?' Mary asked in desperation, she had just watched her whole life go up in smoke. 'Nowt but this painting,' one of the firemen proclaimed.

As he spoke he held up the painting of a small weeping boy. Ralf and Mary gasped. The frame had been slightly burned but the painting itself was completely unscathed, not a burn mark upon it. Indeed, if a passer-by had seen it, and not the burnt out building, they might have refused to have believed there had ever been a fire at all.


	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Doctor Who and its respective creations belong to the BBC and their respective creations. I own nothing just using them for this fanfic. Some characters are original creations invented for the purpose of the story. Although, the characters are fictional the plot is based on an actual event.

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><p><strong><span>Chapter 1<span>**

Jamie watched intently as the central column of the TARDIS console bobbed rhythmically up and down. He sighed contently to himself. It felt good to truly be home at last and good to be out of his itchy plaid and into clothes more suited to running around with the Doctor.

The TARDIS had always been very fond of Jamie, compared to some of the Doctor's other companions, and as a result she had been very co-operative and it hadn't taken Jamie long to find his old room again. He was presently surprised to find it exactly as he had left it, complete with a wardrobe full of his favourite clothes. Gleefully he undressed and pulled out a turtleneck jumper from the wardrobe and pulled it over his head. _Much better_, he thought as he arranged the jumper so that it was comfortable. He was pleased to find a variety of kilts in the wardrobe (but disappointed that there was no sporran). No matter the weather, Jamie was a true Highlander and would never be seen in trousers, despite protests in the past from Polly, Victoria and Zoe.

His current kilt was laden with water from the soggy, wet ground of the Scottish Highlands; added to the fact that it was dirty and he had been wearing it for months (he had had no fresh clothes to change into while imprisoned in the gaol) and, as a result, felt uncomfortable. Jamie was glad to finally be able to change out of it. Finally, he topped his look off with the watch Polly had given him back when he had first travelled with the Doctor. Polly had helped him to learn to read, write and tell the time. When he mastered these skills Polly had presented him with three gifts each relating to his newly acquired skills; a pen with which to write, a book on the history of Scotland to read and a watch with which to tell the time. He had treasured each gift but the watch had always been his favourite and every time he looked at it he was reminded of the time he had spent with Polly and Ben.

And so here he was, watching the TARDIS central column bobbing up and down and smiling contently. He was home at last and there was nowhere else in the universe he'd rather be.

Suddenly the Doctor popped his head around the console from seemingly nowhere.

'So, James Robert McCrimmon, what do you think of the new look?' the Doctor asked, gesturing at the console room.

Jamie studied the console room carefully. It was a beautifully designed room with stairs leading up to the central console and off it to various rooms. The console itself was the traditional hexagonal shape which Jamie remembered. Only this time, instead of just a plain floor it lay atop of a perplex floor, below which could be seen all the inner workings of the TARDIS. The console itself was a mismatch of various technologies from different time periods all of which were being used as part of the machine.

'I like it, Doctor,' Jamie said, 'but I liked the auld one tae.' 'Yes, well I was bored with the old look,' the Doctor admitted. 'Ye got rid of the interior doors, I see.' 'Yes, having two sets of doors was just silly!' 'I guess,' Jamie agreed, 'but I still liked them.'

There was a long, agonising silence. The Doctor had so many things he wanted to say to Jamie, to apologise for but didn't know where to begin. He knew what had really happened to his friend while incarnated in Inverness and could well imagine the turmoil inside his friend's head. He knew Jamie was a proud person and would never admit the weakness and shame he must now surely feel but somehow he must get his friend to open up, it was the only way he could heal and, of course, there was the other pressing matter to attend to; the strong power that the Doctor had sensed from within Jamie and how to deal with it. What was this power? Was it dangerous? Did Jamie know how to use it? The Doctor doubted this but was sure that his friend was at least aware of this gift which he possessed. He sighed, he wished Amy and Rory had been here. They were human and could've understood Jamie's emotions better than a Time Lord from Gallifrey ever could but, thinking it best, the Doctor had taken Amy and Rory back to Leadworth on the pretext that they should spend some time together as newlyweds, so that he could talk to Jamie in private without the young Scot worrying that someone else might accidently overhear.

'Amy told me what the Redcoats did to you while you were in the prison. I wish I had been there to stop it,' the Doctor said gently, giving his friend's shoulder a squeeze.

Jamie's response was detached and emotionless, as though he were trying to distance himself from the abuse he had suffered. 'Ach, there's nothin' ye could have done, Doctor, and if ye dinnae mind I dinnae want tae talk aboot it, alright?' 'Alright, ok,' the Doctor sighed. 'This is us not talking about it.'

Once more they lapsed into a long agonising silence, not a sound was uttered save for the noise the rising TARDIS column made. The Doctor, nonchalantly, began inspecting his nails while Jamie sat, head bowed, too ashamed to look at his companion for fear the tears would dare to fall.

At length Jamie spoke: 'There's something bothering me more than what the Redcoats did, anyway.'

The Doctor sat up straight and looked at his friend but said nothing. 'See, I think there's something wrong with me, Doctor. I keep having all these strange feelings like I can feel when something is wrong or dangerous and I keep being proved right.'

The Doctor stared intently at Jamie. Being a fighter the young Scot was rarely intimidated by anything but there was something in the hard, alien stare that made Jamie feel slightly uncomfortable.

'Who are you, James Robert McCrimmon?' the Doctor asked. 'Ye ken who I am,' Jamie replied, clearly confused by the Doctor's strange behaviour. 'You're a loyal Jacobite from 1746 but that's not it, is it? There's a great power inside you that's why you keep having these feelings' 'What power?' 'The one inside of you; the one that I know scares you even though you're too valiant to admit it! I'm going to teach you how to embrace that power. You're important, Jamie' 'I'm jist a humble piper,' Jamie stated. 'No, you're more than that; so much more!'

Before the Doctor could continue the TARDIS came to a sudden halt, sending himself and Jamie flying halfway across the console room.

'Well, it looks like we've landed,' the Doctor stated. 'Aye, more like crashed!' Jamie complained, as he rubbed his sore head.

DWDWDW

The sun had steadily risen above the roof tops of a row of back-to-back red brick terraced houses. A milk float made its way down the street, the milkman whistling happily to himself as he delivered fresh pints of milk to the occupants of the houses.

Suddenly there was a metallic whooshing noise and a wooden blue box, much like the old police boxes, appeared from seemingly nowhere. The milkman rubbed his eyes in disbelief and decided that he should really give up on the late night drinking, as he was clearly seeing things.

At that moment two gentlemen emerged from the box, both dressed in unusual clothes. The first wore a tweed jacket with leather patches on the arm and a bow-tie which made him look like some sort of weird geography teacher. The second man was even more bizarrely dressed with a turtleneck jumper that would have been fashionable in 1960s and a kilt. The milkman shook his head and decided fashions were just getting too strange for him to understand these days, before returning to his rounds.

DWDWDW

The Doctor glanced around and began to take in his surroundings. He noticed a red brick back-to-back row of terraced houses, nothing particularly special there. Suddenly, he felt someone tapping on his shoulder and a soft Scottish lilt cry: 'Doctor, look at this!'

The Doctor spun round to look at what Jamie had seen and found himself facing another row of terraced houses. They looked identical to the row of houses he had just seen; again nothing special except for the middle house. The house in the middle was completely back, charred with soot. The windows no longer had any glass or frames in them and it was clear that the entire building had been gutted by a fire and recently to. This was confirmed when the Doctor saw a crew of fireman packing up their equipment and a young couple hugging each other, clearly upset. It was obvious that they were the victims of this dreadful fire.

'What dae ye think happened here, Doctor?' Jamie asked. 'I'm not sure,' the Doctor admitted, 'but there's only one way to find out.' 'What's that, then?' 'Ask them, Jamie!'

Before the Highlander could say anything else the Doctor was already making his way over to the fire fighters. Jamie hurried after him, eager not to miss out on what was quickly turning into another one of the Doctor's mad adventures.

By the time Jamie reached the Doctor the Time Lord had already introduced himself (with some assistance from the psychic paper he carried with him) and was discussing the situation with one of the fire fighters.

'Aye, completely gutted it was,' Jamie heard the fireman say. 'I see,' the Doctor muttered, 'and the contents?' 'Completely destroyed,' the fireman replied. 'What, everything?' the Doctor asked, clearly shocked. 'Aye, there wa' nowt left except this picture.'

The fireman held up a large picture of a small boy with tears clearly trickling down his cheeks. The Doctor thought it is a horrible picture with a child so clearly in distress and couldn't understand why anyone would want such a morbid picture hanging on the walls of their house.

Before the Doctor could voice his opinions, however, he felt someone clinging to him, grabbing at his waist with a tension that could only be the result of pure fear. It took the Doctor a few minutes to realise that the person was, in fact, Jamie. He had forgotten how tactile the young Scot could be particularly when he was frightened or startled by something.

'Can we no' get awa' from this place, Doctor,' he hissed. 'What's the matter?' the Doctor hissed back. 'I dinnae ken but there's something no' right, Doctor. I dinnae like it!' 'Yes, alright Jamie, we'll leave now.'

The Doctor politely thanked the fireman for being so co-operative and made his way off down the street. Jamie hastily followed behind him as though all the hounds of hell were upon his heels.


	3. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Doctor Who and its respective creations belong to the BBC and their respective creations. I own nothing just using them for this fanfic. Some characters are original creations invented for the purpose of the story. Although, the characters are fictional the plot is based on an actual event

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><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

The Doctor and Jamie sat on red plastic chairs in a small side-street café. The chairs were certainly uncomfortable and, several times, Jamie had found himself slowly slipping down them as he waited for the food he had ordered to be served. 'Ach, could ye no' find us somewhere with more comfortable seats, Doctor,' he groaned. 'Hey, don't blame me,' the Doctor protested. 'You were the one who took off like a bat out of hell and started complaining he was hungry.' 'Aye, well, like I said something wasnae right in that place.'

Before the Doctor could reply a waitress had come over with the plate of gammon and chips which Jamie had ordered. The Doctor rolled his eyes as the young Jacobite consumed the meal with great gusto. At the sight of his companion's table manners (or rather lack of) the Doctor turned away and began to scan a newspaper he found abandoned on the next table.

Suddenly the Doctor sat bolt upright as though he had been electrocuted. Jamie gave him a puzzling look and then, deciding it was higher in his list of priorities, returned to his meal. 'Have you seen this?' the Doctor proclaimed, shoving the newspaper under Jamie's nose.

The Scot scanned the newspaper quickly, eager to get back to his dinner. The article was a piece on a recent spate of fires that had begun in the city they were in, Rotherham, and seemed to be spreading all around the country. All the victims' possessions had been destroyed except for a painting of a crying boy. There was a black and white photograph of the painting which Jamie instantly recognised as the painting the fireman had shown him and the Doctor earlier.

'Ye remember I told ye there was something no' right about that place earlier, Doctor?' 'Yes, you did.' 'Well now I've read yon article I realise what it was that was bothering me. That painting, Doctor, there's something no' right about it. I could sense it earlier.' 'What do you mean?' 'Remember, in the TARDIS, we were talking about those strange feelings I keep having? 'Yes.' 'Well this painting; it gave me one of those feelings when I saw it earlier.' 'And you think this painting is somehow dangerous?' 'Aye, like I said before these feelings are ne'er wrong. I wish they were but they've always been right so far.' 'Well, looks like we have a mystery to solve. Come on!' 'Ach, can I no' finish my dinner first!' Jamie protested.

The Doctor grabbed Jamie by the arm but the young Highlander, desperate to finish his meal, refused to let go of the table cloth. The Doctor tugged and tugged at his friend's arm but still Jamie (who was much stronger than the Doctor) did not let go.

Suddenly, the Doctor lost his hold on Jamie. All at once everything seemed to slow right down as the inevitable outcome played out before the Doctor like a film. The Doctor, losing his grip on his friend's arm had thrown Jamie off balance and caused him to stumble and land smack on his bottom, all the while still holding onto the table cloth. The momentum had brought the table crashing down and sent Jamie's dinner flying across the room. All this was followed by an almighty crash.

At the sound of the crash the café owner looked up to see the Doctor helping Jamie to his feet as the young Scot brushed himself off. 'Oi, you two!' he cried. 'Trash my café, will thi! Just you wait right there I'll sort tha out, tha young hooligans!' 'Quick, Jamie,' the Doctor yelled. 'Run!'

Jamie made towards the door before suddenly stopping and heading back towards the upturned table. 'What are you doing?' the Doctor cried. 'I havenae finished my dinner yet,' Jamie replied.

The Doctor watched as his companion scooped up as many of the chips as he could reasonably carry in his hands before making for the door just as the café owner came bounding out from behind the serving hatch.

'Get back here, you young hoodlums, tha haven't paid!' he roared.

Taking no chances the Doctor and Jamie sprinted out of the café and off down the street with the café owner's expletives ringing in their ears as they went.

When they were a safe distance away the Doctor stopped and leant against the wall to catch his breath. For his part Jamie did not seem at all flustered in anyway. He was accustomed to running from his experience of fighting on the moorland at Culloden. Instead, he began to wolf down the half a dozen or so chips he had managed to salvage from the café floor, before remembering his manners and offering one to the Doctor.

'No thank you,' the Doctor replied. 'Suit yersen,' Jamie shrugged and went back to devouring the chips with delight. 'You do realise they've been on the floor, don't you Jamie?'

Jamie looked at the Doctor, this mouth full with chips.

'So?' he mumbled. 'They still taste good!' 'But they are full of germs!' the Doctor protested, before realising that germs meant nothing to a boy from the 1700s who had spent his youth roaming the Highlands of Scotland and probably shared his home with all manner of livestock. 'Come on, let's make our way back to that burnt out house we found,' the Doctor said. 'And Jamie?' 'Aye, Doctor.' 'Please don't speak with your mouth full in future. It's very rude!'

Jamie merely rolled his eyes as he followed the Time Lord back towards the street where they had first arrived.

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><p>Hope you all liked this chapter. Please can you review. Reviews encourage me to write more!<p> 


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

By the time the Doctor and Jamie reached the street were they had first arrived they found that the fire fighters had packed up and left. A little further off the Doctor noticed the young couple whom had been the victims of the fire. The Doctor was desperate to talk to them but there was a middle-aged man with a thick moustache with them who was clearly engaged in a deep conversation with the two young adults that the Doctor did not think now was the opportunity for him to question them.

Suddenly, the middle-aged man with the thick mustache glanced over at the Doctor and Jamie.

'I don't suppose you two young lads witnessed any of this?' he asked. The Doctor instantly feigned innocence, 'no,' he replied, 'me and my friend have just arrived. What's been happening?' 'I take it you haven't read the papers recently then?' the man asked. 'No,' the Doctor lied. 'Why?' 'Ah, just if you had then you'd be aware of the curse.' 'Curse, what curse?' 'The curse of the _Crying Boy_!' the man replied. 'You see, there's been a spate of fires recently, whole houses reduced to nothing more but ashes and rubble and in each of these homes the occupant owned a kitsch print of a painting entitled _The Crying Boy_and it's my belief that all these fires are more than a mere coincidence.' 'I see,' the Doctor pondered. 'Well, I dinnae,' Jamie sighed. 'I'll explain later,' the Doctor said, before turning to the middle-aged man and asking 'and who are you?' 'Clive Rochdale.' 'Clive Rochdale, what a brilliant name!' the Doctor beamed.

Although, Clive was slightly bemused by the young man's slightly eccentric behaviour he decided that the Doctor and Jamie were harmless enough and proceeded to offer his hand. The Doctor took the proffered hand shook it, perhaps with a little too much enthusiasm. Jamie, for his part, was much more cautious in his manner. The strange feelings he had been having had returned and they seemed to be centred on the man before him.

'I'm a journalist for the local paper, _The Rotherham News_,' Clive suddenly explained. 'I've been following this story for a while, in fact, I was the first to break the story about the first victims, Ralf and Mary Butcher,' he said, proudly. 'Here, take my card.'

He produced two, small rectangular shaped business cards and handed one each to the Doctor and Jamie. 'My office number is on there,' he explained. 'Please, don't hesitate to give me a ring if you see or hear anything, lads.'

The Doctor examined the card and thanked him before guiding Jamie away down the street once more.

'Where now, Doctor?' Jamie asked when they were out of earshot. 'I dinnae like that man at all, much tae full of himsel'.' 'Yes, I agree. I think we need to find the people who were involved in the first fire!' 'Aye an' where dae we find them?' 'What do I look like, the Michelin Man?' the Doctor snapped. 'Eh…aye,' Jamie replied, uncertainly. The reference, of course, went completely over his head. 'Wait a minute…what?' 'Never mind,' the Doctor sighed. 'Come on; let's see if we can find these people. Now come on, think, where have we heard the names Ralf and Mary Butcher mentioned before?'

Suddenly he cried out with an almighty yell that caused Jamie to jump back slightly in shock. 'That's it, Jamie, the newspaper! They were mentioned in that article. Now then, where did we first see that newspaper? Of course: the café!' 'Oh no, Doctor, I'm no' going back there again!'

DWDWDW

By the time the Doctor and Jamie had reached the café it was midday and the lunchtime queue was already starting to build up. The Doctor hoped that this would give them an advantage to sneak in and grab the copy of the newspaper but, alas, this was not to be the case.

As soon as they set foot over the café threshold the owner instantly recognised them. 'You two again, eh, what does tha want this time?' 'Don't mind us. We've just come for a paper – a newspaper – this newspaper right here,' the Doctor said picking up the copy of the _Rotherham News_he had been reading earlier. 'Don't know what tha want that for it is days old an' I don't care so long as tha get lost and don't come back!' 'Charming,' the Doctor muttered, as he and Jamie made his way towards the door. 'Hey up!' the café owner suddenly called. 'I've just remembered you didn't pay earlier. Tha can pay now!' 'Pay, pay for what?' the Doctor asked, confused. 'For the gammon and chips your Scottish friend had earlier.' 'Yes of course, silly me. Jamie, give the man some money.' 'Me?' Jamie cried, incredulously. 'What for, Doctor I havane got any money.' 'Ah, right, good. No, no not good! Bad very, very bad!' the Doctor muttered. 'Jamie?' 'Aye, Doctor.' 'Run!'

Once more the sprinted off down the street with the sound of the café owners expletives ringing in their ears.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

'We're no' going tae have tae go back there again, are we Doctor?' Jamie cried. 'I'm aye sick of having tae run awa' from that daft bampot!' 'No, I don't think so,' the Doctor replied. 'We have the newspaper now and the names of the first victims – Ralf and Mary Butcher – come on, let's see if we can find them.' 'How we going tae find them, Doctor, they could be anywhere?' 'We follow our leads, Jamie.' 'Eh?' 'Well the paper told us the names of the first two victims and it also tells us the temporary accommodation where they are staying.'

He picked up the paper and began to read. "All the victims have been placed in temporary accommodation in the area surrounding the local church," so that is where we will find this Ralf and Mary Butcher. Come on.'

DWDWDW

It took the Doctor and Jamie a while to actually find the street where the Butchers had been rehoused to as they spent (what felt like) forever getting lost in the industrial back streets of Rotherham and asking directions from the locals who, although bemused to see two strange young men (one of whom was wearing a kilt) running around the place, were friendly and helpful.

When they found the street they found it was very much the same as the street they had found themselves in when they had first stepped out of the TARDIS. A row of pretty ordinary-looking Victorian terraced houses. _Nothing special_, the Doctor thought.

'Doctor,' Jamie began, breaking in on the Doctor's thoughts. 'How dae we find which hoose in the one we want?' 'Well…er…we'll just have to knock on the doors until we find the right one.' 'What!' Jamie exclaimed. 'All of them?' 'Yes,' the Doctor hissed. 'So get cracking, McCrimmon!'

Jamie shot him a look before he rapped upon the door of the first house.

DWDWDW

Mary Butcher sat in the front room. The house was quiet safe for the ticking of a small carriage clock seated upon the mantel piece, for Ralf was at work. Since she and Ralf had moved into their home Mary had been unable to settle. She hadn't slept properly in days. After all, how could she sleep in a strange house with belongings that weren't hers? She didn't care what Ralf said; this was a much more rundown area than theirs and, judging by the state of their gardens, it was clear that many of their new neighbours were certainly not house proud. It was a good job Mary's dear mother was no longer alive; the poor woman would've died of a heart attack if she had lived to see her daughter living in such a slum.

A sudden, loud rapping on the door startled Mary and stirred her from her retrieve. Cautiously, she made her way to the door. She opened the door slightly, without taking the metal chain of the latch, and found herself facing a young lad, who looked to be no more than seventeen, with a mop-top haircut and what appeared to be a kilt!

_No doubt one of the young hooligans probably come to cause trouble_

'Be off with tha, tha daft thyke!' 'Awa' an open the door, ye daft Sassenach!' the young man hissed in an unmistakeable Scottish accent.

_Not local then. I suppose it does explain the kilt, though!_

'Tha not coming in here, does tha understand?' 'Ah, come on! Take this daft wee metal chain off I only want tae talk tae ye!' 'I said be off with thi! Mary yelled.

Seeing he was getting nowhere Jamie decided to leave and, haughtily, took off up the street to where the Doctor was waiting.

'Well?' the Doctor asked. 'Ach, I spoke tae everyone but none of them was Mary Butcher.' 'All of them, are you sure?' 'Aye, well except the last ane. She was a right radge! Wouldnae even open the door!' 'What?' 'Och, I mean she was angry and wouldnae even let me through the door ne'er mind ask her if she was Mary Butcher or no'!' 'Well, we need to know for sure. Come on, we're going to back there, together this time, and ask her.'

DWDWDW

For the second time in about ten minutes Mary heard someone knocking on the door. Sighing, she got up and went to answer it. Once more opening door but not taking the chain of the latch.

_I hope that's not that young Scottish hooligan again!'_

She peered through the door to find a strange man with a large forehead and a bow-tie peering back at her. The man beamed an enormous smile and said:

'Hello. I'm the Doctor.'

Suddenly Mary spotted Jamie standing a little further off, looking around inattentively. She looked accusingly at the Doctor.

'Is tha with him?' she snaps. 'I already told that young tyke to bugger off! An' if'n tha with him thi can bugger off an' all!' 'Ok, agitated lady, very agitated lady!' the Doctor stated.

Mary looked at Jamie with a very bemused look on her face.

'Is thi friend on summat?' she asked the young Scot, suspiciously. 'Ach, no, he's jist a wee bit excitable!'

By this point the Doctor had retrieved the psychic paper from his jacket pocket and was flashing it at Mary. 'As I was saying, I'm the Doctor…Doctor John Smith. I am a parapsychologist from Sheffield University and this is my assistant, James McCrimmon. We are interested in paranormal activities!' 'Aye,' Jamie added, confused as to what the Doctor was on about but determined to sound convincing. 'What does this have to be with me?' Mary asked. 'I saw the recent article in the _Rotherham News _regarding the unfortunate fire that you and your husband were victims of and I couldn't help being curious as to why only the painting survived. You see, it has long been my theory that the real boy, who was the subject of the painting, was the victim of some terrible tragedy – possibly a fire – hence the crying, and that the painting is haunted by his essence, which is extracting his revenge.' 'Right,' Mary said, still bemused by the strange doctor. 'Tha'd better come in.'

DWDWDW

'Are tha sure tea is alright, Doctor?' Mary asked.

The Doctor and Jamie were sitting on the sofa in Mary's front room. After apologising to Jamie for being rude to him earlier she had invited them into her temporary home and boiled the kettle and poured them both a cup of tea and a plate of Battenberg cake.

'Yes, it's fine,' the Doctor smiled, gently sipping his tea.

Jamie, for his part, was staring at the cup gently shaking it and watching as the tea stirred in the cup, splashing his jumper and kilt.

The clock above the mantelpiece ticked another minute by. The Doctor spoke: 'I know about the fire, Mrs Butcher, from the newspaper article but I was wondering if you could tell about it in your own words.' 'Oh, it was horrible, Doctor, everything we owned was destroyed in the fire. We don't have much money, me and Ralf so it was heart-breaking to be told that all our possessions, some of which had belonged to our parents and irreplaceable, had been lost forever.' 'Except the painting?' 'Yes, I didn't know what to think when the firemen told us that the painting had survived. I know Ralf hated it, it was my late mother's painting, you see, and I had inherited as I always remember it having pride of place in my living room. After the fire I had to get rid of it. I couldn't help but feel it was; oh you'll think I'm silly.' 'Not at all,' the Doctor smiled, politely.' Nothing you say will be thought of as silly by myself or companion, will it Jamie.'

Upon his name Jamie looked up his cheeks full of Battenberg cake, as though her were a hamster stuffing food in its pouches. He looked at the Doctor for a few moments nodding his head, his mouth still full of cake.

'Oh aye,' he mumbled, his mouth still full of cake.

Mary couldn't help but smile at the ill-mannered yet innocent young Highlander. _How old was he? _He looked to be no more than 18 at the most she guessed. What was someone so young doing with this strange doctor who seemed so young and so old at the same time?

'What happened after the fire?' the Doctor asked, bringing Mary's attention back to the fire.

'Almost straight away, journalist from t' _Rotherham News _shows up. He starts asking about t'fire, prying into things the way that journalists do. He asked us all about the painting and t'fire and what we thought had happened. He wa' a right smary so-so. I didn't like him much at all, Doctor.' 'Did you get his name?' the Doctor asked expectantly. 'Clive it wa',' Mary replied, 'Clive Rochdale.'

The Doctor smiled. That was just what he had wanted to hear.

DWDWDW

'What was all that aboot, Doctor?'

'What?'

'Makin' yon lassie think ye were a para-whatsit.' 'Parapsychologist,' the Doctor supplied. 'Aye, that. I thought ye dinnae believe in ghosties' 'I don't but it was the only way to get into her house and speak to her.' 'Aye, well what dae we dae noo?' 'You heard what she said, Jamie that almost straight away that journalist was on the scene, sniffing around, wanting an exclusive scoop.' 'Aye, but I thought ye said that journalists were always sniffing around for stories.' 'They are; ruthless creatures, that they are. Like a pack of blood-thirsty animals! But these are the days before email and mobile phones. The internet is in its infancy which means no instant access to information or 24 hour news yet, so how can he have found out so quickly?'

Jamie shrugged his shoulders. He didn't know the answer. Heck, he didn't even know what email or a mobile was.

'That is why,' the Doctor continued, 'we are going to pay editor of the _Rotherham News _a visit, come on!

Jamie sighed and trudged on after his friend.


	6. Chapter 5

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed this story, so far. You're comments and feedback have been greatly appreciated. Sorry you have had such a wait for a new chapter, unfortunately, I have been tied up with a few things of late but should be able to post more frequently now. Anyway, here is chapter 5 for you to enjoy :)**  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter 5<span>**

Being only a local paper the _Rotherham News _Headquarters was not a particularly large on imposing building. A white washed building, which sat on the corner of the junction between Wellgate and Wellgate Mount, it looked more like a shop than the headquarters of a newspaper.

The Doctor turned the door handle and a bell above the door tinkled as the door was opened. 'A door with a little tinkling bell above it, that's just brilliant!' the Doctor exclaimed. 'Doors with bells above them are cool!' 'Excuse me, sir, can I help you? A brunette young woman, no more than 20, called over the reception desk. She was wearing a business suit and her hair was teased and permed in a typically 80s style. She wore very heavy eye makeup, which was also typical of the fashions of that era. She sat at the desk her hands running over the fingers of a typewriter (her employer had yet to invest in the computer technologies that were being to make an appearance in businesses up and down the country).

At the sound of the voice the Doctor spun round and came face-to-face with the receptionist. 'Hello,' he beamed. 'I'm the Doctor, pleased to meet you, Miss…Reception…Lady, person.'

The receptionist giggled at the Doctor's odd behaviour.

'My name's Clare,' she stated. 'Hello, Clare,' the Doctor smiled. 'Hello, sir…Doctor?' 'John Smith,' he supplied. 'Doctor John Smith. Can I help you?' 'Aye,' Jamie called from over the Doctor's shoulder. 'We've an appointment tae see Mr Bagshaw at two.'

Clare gave Jamie a once over. He was certainly handsome, much more attractive than the young men usually seen in Rotherham. _Pity, that he seems to like to wear women's clothes otherwise I might have asked him out! _She had clearly mistaken the kilt for a skirt.

Once the Doctor and Jamie were seated Clare pressed a button on the intercom system. Within a few minutes she heard Marcus Bagshaw's voice on the other end of the phone.

'Yes, what is it?' he asked. 'Your two o' clock appointment is in, Mr Bagshaw.' 'Tell them I'll be down shortly.' 'Yes sir.'

Peering over the desk Clare called out to the Doctor and Jamie: 'Mr Bagshaw will be with you shortly.'

DWDWDW

'Ah, Doctor John Smith, Mr McCrimmon,' Marcus said as he shook the Doctor and Jamie's hand. 'If you care to follow me, my office is this way.'

The lead the Doctor and Jamie out of the reception area and up into his office.

Like the exterior of the building the office was a modest affair carpeted with a grey, bristly carpet and white washed walls. At the far side of the room sat Marcus's desk upon which sat the only computer in the business, a Commodore PET, a half-completed Rubik cube and a Newton's cradle (a series of identically sized metal balls suspended in a metal frame so that they are just touching each other at rest. Each ball is attached to the frame by two wires of equal length angled away from each other. This restricts the pendulums' movements to the same plane. When the end ball is pulled back and released sends a force of kinetic energy which causes the other balls to also swing back and forth). Behind the desk was a locked door on which the words RESTRICTED ACCESS AUTHORISED PERSONNEL ONLY could be made out in big, bold letters.

Marcus offered the Doctor and Jamie a seat and they both sat while Marcus sat on the other side of the desk. Marcus leant across and said:

'Now then what can I do for you two gentlemen?'

'We'd like to talk to you about the articles your reporters are writing on the _Crying Boy _incidents,' the Doctor replied.

'Oh, what about them?' Marcus asked, nonchalantly.

'Well surely you must have been aware of the incidents that have been reported recently of a spate of fires occurring in homes where the occupants possess copies of the _Crying Boy _print, especially as it has been journalists from your particular newspaper who have always been the first to break the developments.'

'Well, I hardly think that is a crime, gentlemen,' Marcus smiled, a sweet kindly smile which said "you can trust me." 'After all, that is the purpose of the media world, to report the news as and when it develops. I'm sure you will appreciate that we have many rival factions, such as other newspapers, television and radio outlets, whom will try and beat us to the latest stories and that is why we have to stay one step ahead of the game.'

'By any means,' the Doctor muttered.

'My employees are merely committed to their work, Doctor Smith, last time I checked that was also not a crime.'

The Doctor said nothing but looked suspiciously at Marcus Bagshaw. Despite how friendly and nice the man seemed the Doctor was convinced that something sinister was going on underneath the surface at _Rotherham News_ and he was demanded to find out what.

'Would it be possible to speak to one of your employees, Mr Bagshaw?' he asked.

'I would be happy to oblige, provided the colleague is available. Who would you like to speak to?'

'Mr Colin Rochdale,' the Doctor stated, without bothering with the niceties that Marcus was using.

'Certainly, sir, I shall just see if he is available for you.'

With that he picked up the telephone receiver to dial down to reception. Neither the Doctor or Jamie saw him actually dial a number or press any buttons but, suddenly he was speaking to Clare the receptionist.

He was not on the phone long before he hung up and replaced the receiver back into its cradle.

'I'm afraid Mr Rochdale is not available at the moment, Doctor, he is err…out chasing up a story. You are welcome to wait but that I do warn you that he could be some time.'

'Thank you but my companion and I have other matters to attend to; perhaps, we can catch up with Mr Rochdale another time.'

'Yes, I'm sure you will. Now, if that's all, gentlemen, I really must dash as I have an important conference to attend. It really has been a pleasure to meet you both,' Marcus smiled, once more shaking the Doctor's and Jamie's hands.

DWDWDW

When they were out of earshot of the _Rochdale News _headquarters Jamie turned to the Doctor and hissed:

'I dinnae like him, Doctor, he was a right smarmy chap and surely ye dinnae believe what he was saying back there, dae ye?'

'No, absolutely not! He was desperately trying to be nice to us. I'm sure he was hiding something from us!'

'Aye,' Jamie agreed. 'He was, Doctor, I could sense it.'

'Question is; what?'

What aboot that door?'

'What door?' the Doctor asked.

'The one marked restricted access.'

'Of course!' the Doctor cried. He had forgotten all about _that_ door.

'Did ye think he could be hiding something in there, Doctor, after all why else have a door wi' restricted access marked on it?'

The Doctor smiled. Jamie might not have been the most technically-minded companion the Doctor had ever had but there were times when the young Scot's practical way of thinking really surpassed them all.

DWDWDW

Marcus Bagshaw opened his desk drawer and pulled a long key. He sighed to himself. He hoped that meddlesome Doctor and his young companion didn't come prying into his business again. The last thing he needed was someone snooping around and asking questions; not when their plans were so close to completion. He had better bring this Doctor and the Scots lad to his allies' attention. Perhaps they would know of a way to dispose of the meddlesome Doctor.

He moved across the room towards the door marked RESTRICTED ACCESS AUTHORISED PERSONNEL ONLY, placing the key in the lock he turned the handle and entered the room, closing the door firmly behind him.

The room behind the locked door was dark. Marcus flicked a switch on the wall and a fluorescent light, which hung suspended from the ceiling, flickered and burst into light.

As the fluorescent tube slowly began to light up the room Marcus could just make out the outline of a young woman. She was beautiful; her long brown hair framing her features perfectly. She wore a maroon coloured rode and her face had been painted in several colours with a distinct pattern. The bridge of her nose and her lips had been painted with a gold paint, making them simmer in the light, while her eyebrows had been dyed red and orange upon which had been drawn several points to make them appear like flames.

'A situation has a risen,' Marcus stated.

'What sort of situation,' the woman demanded, slowly lifting her hands from her eyes.

As she did so Marcus could see that her eyelids and the surrounding area was painted with the same heavy gold face paint as on her nose and lips. The space underneath the eyes had been painted red and orange, pointy like the eyebrows, again as though to give the appearance of flames.

'Two young men came to see me just now. They were very curious and queried as to how my staff could be breaking the story so quickly,' Marcus informed the woman.

'And this concerns you?' the woman stated.

'One of the men was very clever. I am concerned that it will not take him long to figure out what is really happening and that he may try to stop the operation.'

'I see, then, he will be dealt with,' the woman replied in a sinister tone.


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

The Doctor and Jamie stood outside Jenkins' Department store. The shop frontage was boarded up and written on the window was the words CLOSING DOWN: EVERYTHING MUST GO.

'Are ye sure this is the right place, Doctor?' Jamie groaned. 'Cause it looks empty tae me!'

The Doctor looked at a small piece of paper he was holding in his hands.

'Yes, this is the right address, Jamie.'

'Aye, well there's naebody here!'

Before the Doctor could reply there was a slight coughing from behind them. Both the Doctor and Jamie almost leapt out of their skin before turning round to face a tall, blonde haired man in a pressed suit.

'Doctor John Smith I presume,' the man said, offering out his hand to the Doctor and Jamie.

'Yes, I'm Doctor Smith,' the Doctor replied, adopting the guise he often used.

'You're investigating paranormal incidents surrounding the _Crying Boy _kitsch prints?'

'Yes.'

'Ah, then you are t' gentleman I spoke to this morning. Sorry, I just cannot be too careful these days. I'm Mike Johnston, t' owner of this establishment.'

'Aye well, why is the place all boarded up like this?' Jamie asked, abruptly.

Mike sighed. 'Since t' newspapers started reporting the fires nobody wants to buy anything from me anymore. They think this place is jinxed. 26 years ago my grandfather, William Jenkins, started this business with nowt but a dream; to bring the styles and fashions of London to the people of Rotherham at affordable prices, since then family have run this business and, all throughout, that time, we have sold _Crying Boy _prints and now it's all over! Grandfather Jenkins would be turning in his grave!'

'When did the fires start?' the Doctor queried.

'Only a few months ago,' Mike replied. 'The first I heard of it was when t' _Rochester News _did an article on it. Suddenly, I had flocks of customers bringing their copies of _The Crying Boy _back to the store. Some of them had brought t' prints in my grandfather's day and had had no bother with them but, suddenly, they were at my door demanding I take t' "wretched thing" back. They'd read t' article, see an' wa' frightened that their house would burn down next!'

'So ye gave them their money back? Jamie asked.

'Aye, lad, I had nay choice but to give t' money back. I tried to get them to make an exchange but there were adamant it wa' a full refund or nowt. They were certain t' shop wa' haunted, see, an' they didn't want owt else from it in case that wa' cursed to.'

'You don't happen to have a list of people who bought the painting recently, say in the last 5-6 months?' the Doctor asked.

'Yes, all the customer records are still in the office, we haven't finished clearing them out yet. I'll get them for you.'

Mike put the key in the lock and opened the door. He stepped inside the building with the Doctor and Jamie following, cautiously, behind him. The room was dark, dank and dusty. What little light there was streamed through from gaps in the boards which had been placed against the windows.

'It's in here somewhere,' Mike stated. 'It might take a bit of finding, though.'

The Doctor set to work in helping Mike to search for the list while Jamie stood around looking bored.

'What can I dae, Doctor?'

'Oh, I don't know, Jamie, can't you find some way to entertain yourself,' the Doctor replied distractedly.

Jamie took in his surroundings; mainly empty shelves and dust not really a lot to entertain himself with. He began searching though the piece of papers littering the floor in an attempt to help the Doctor find what he was looking for, but the task was dull and repetitive and he soon became bored. Glancing up from bending down to pick up one of the papers Jamie noticed a small door. He hadn't notice that when they had entered the building. He toyed with the piece of paper in his hand while his mind debated as to whether he should take a peek at was on the other side of the door or leave well alone. Curiosity quickly got the better of him and he strolled over to the door, but not before he had drawn his dirk, after all who knew what lay on the other side of the threshold.

His heart pounding with anticipation Jamie turned the door handle. The door creaked open, a clear indication that it not been opened in years. As his eyes grew accustomed to the dark Jamie could make out several objects in the room. A desk, a lamp; everything was covered in masses of cobwebs as if the room had been locked one day and, then, never reopened.

Behind the desk hung a painting of several gentlemen in flat caps standing outside of a small shop use frontage read W. JENKINS AND CO. on the frame of the painting Jamie could just make out a small plaque which read: WILLIAM JENKINS AND GEORGE MOORE OUTSIDE THEIR ESTABLISHMENT.

_Guess that must be the auld man, Mr Johnston's grandfather._

Suddenly the door slammed shut. Jamie, jumped back, startled, before realising he was locked in the room. At that same moment the room became ice cold. Coming from the Highlands of Scotland Jamie was used to the cold but this was like nothing he had ever felt before, within seconds the room had gone from being a regular temperature to feeling like being inside a giant fridge. Suddenly, the young Highlander felt cold breath at his cheek and heard a voice say:

'_Burn, burn, the town will burn,_

_The adults will despair, the children will cry, _

_And the Highlander and the Time Lord,_

_Will surely die!_

The voice had sounded like it belonged to a child yet there had been something sinister and unnatural in the voice that it could not have been the innocent voice of a child.

Instantly Jamie spun round, dirk held out in front of him, ready to face the speaker. But there was no one there, only the unnatural ice cold feeling which lingered in the room like a strong smell. Alarmed, the young Scot dashed for the door and hastened out of the room as fast as he possibly could.

In his eagerness to be clear of the room Jamie almost crashed head long into the Doctor who gave his companion a once over and told him to be more careful in future. He did not notice the whites of Jamie's eyes which gave a way the fear the young man felt.

'There's something in that room, Doctor, something wrong an' unnatural,' Jamie painted as he tried to catch his breath.

Mike was still rifling through some of the loose papers. At the same moment that Jamie had spoken had found the one had been looking for and passed it to the Doctor.

'There tha go, that should be what tha need.'

'Thank you,' the Doctor replied. 'Come on, Jamie!'

The Highlander followed the Time Lord out of the building still trying to attract the Doctor's attention so that he could tell the Doctor what had happened in the room but without result, still he was relieved to be away from that place.

DWDWDW

'We got the wee bit of paper, Doctor, now what?'

'Now we contact South Yorkshire Fire Service.'

'Why?'

'So, they can tell us if any of the people on this list have reported a house fire recently,' the Doctor replied.

'What for?' the indignant Scot cried.

'All these things; the prints, the fires, the media. They are all linked somehow. We just need to find the link.'

'An' ye think if we contact yon Fire Service they can help us?'

'Yes.'

'What if they winnae tell us what we need tae ken?'

'I'm sure we'll find a way! Come on.'

'Ach, where we awa' tae noo?' Jamie whined.

'To find a phone box.'

'Is there no' a phone in the TARDIS?' Jamie asked but the Doctor was already making his way down the street.

DWDWDW

It was rather cramped inside the phone box. The Doctor and Jamie squeezed into the space between the door and the receiver.

'Well, it's certainly cosy,' the Doctor remarked.

'Aye, ye can say that agen!' Jamie moaned. 'Ach, can ye no' move your foot, Doctor, yer standing on me toe!'

'Sorry.'

The Doctor retrieved several silver coins from his jacket pocket and dropped them into the designated slot on the telephone and dialled the number for South Yorkshire Fire Service which was clearly displayed on a board behind the phone in case of emergencies.

DWDWDW

It had been a hectic morning at South Yorkshire Fire Service, another house fire involving a _Crying Boy _print had been reported and the fire station officer, Andy Watson, was determined to get to the bottom of this mystery once and for all, which had meant pressurised working for all his colleagues.

The receptionist, Julie Milburn, was busy tidying away some files when the telephone began to ring. _What now? Not another one of those house fires, surely! _The phone had practically been ringing off the hook with people reporting incidents, recently. Julie quickly climbed down from the chair and was just about to answer the phone when Andy called out:

'Can tha get that Julie, love?'

'Aye, I've got it.'

She picked up the receiver and spoke:

'Hello, South Yorkshire Fire Service. Julie speaking how can I help?'

'Hello. My name's Doctor John Smith I'm a parapsychologist, my job is to investigate paranormal activities. I have been investigating the strange occurrences regarding the _Crying Boy _paintings and a recent spite of house fires in the local area. I was wondering if you could provide me with a list of names of people who have reported a house fire recently and if a copy of the painting was found in the property?'

'One moment, sir, I will need to check with the station officer if it's ok to let tha have t' information.'

She dialled through to Andy's extension and waited for him to answer the phone.

'Hello, Andy? There's a gentleman on t' phone says he's a para-summit, says his job is to investigate paranormal activities and reckons tha's summit going wi' them paintings. He's asking if we can give him information on recent incidents reported.'

'What's his name?'

'Doctor John Smith.'

'Alright, put him through.'

Andy heard Julie's phone click and, after a few seconds, said:

'Hello, is that Doctor Smith?'

'Yes, yes it is,' the voice on the other end of the phone replied.

'How can we help thi?'

'Well, as I was explaining to your receptionist, I am a parapsychologist, investigating paranormal activities, and I think they may be a link between the kitsch prints and the recent fires.'

'Oh aye?'

'Yes and I was wondering if, by any chance, I could obtain the details, names and such, of people who had recently reported the fire and owned copies of the print.'

'Well, I'm not sure if we can disclose that information, Doctor Smith.'

'I have already spoken to the gentleman who owned Jenkins' department store and-'

'Mike Johnston?' Andy interrupted.

'Yes, and as I was saying, he was most helpful. He provided me with a list of people who had purchased the print from him before his business closed.'

Andy sighed. If Mike Johnston had readily given this academic the information he required then Andy felt obliged to do the same.

'Very well, Doctor, I will provide you with the information tha require but I certainly cannot give it to thi over t' phone. Come to t' station in half an hour an' I'll make sure you get all t' information thi need. I'll transfer thi back to Julie and she can give you our address.'

'Thank you, sir.'

DWDWDW

Half an hour later the Doctor and Jamie stood outside a red-brick building. Looking above them they could make out the words SOUTH YORKSHIRE FIRE STATION. A fire engine whizzed past them, sirens blazing, the sound causing Jamie to almost jump out of his skin as he grabbed the Doctor's waist in fright.

'Come on, Jamie, it's just a fire engine nothing to be scared of,' the Doctor reassured him.

''Tis a noisy beastie whatever it is,' Jamie remarked.

As they entered the building the Doctor and Jamie were rather surprised to find Andy waiting for them. He offered his hand and the both shuck it.

'Doctor Smith I presume.'

'Yes,' the Doctor replied, 'and this is my assistant, James McCrimmon.'

'I don't normally let the public have access to our records but, I have say, Doctor Smith, on this occasion, I am granting you special dispensation to view the information you require,' Andy informed the Doctor.

'Thank you.'

'I will be very interested to read your research when it is published,' he added. 'I am not a man prone to flights of fantasy, Doctor, but since these fires started a few months ago I have come to believe that there is some sort of supernatural force involved in these prints.'

'Really?'

'Yes, I have even carried out my own research into the original painter, Giovanni Bragolin, and have found out some fascinating information which I think you will find of great interest, Doctor.'

'What information might that be?' the Doctor asked.

'Oh, several stories some of which claimed that after had finished the painting Bragolin's studio mysteriously burnt to the ground, and the boy was later killed in a car cash. Another, claimed the boy was an orphan, a street urchin, who never spoke, and had a very sorrowful look in his eyes. Bragolin painted the boy and, afterwards a priest apparently identified the boy as Don Bonillo, a child who had run away, in fear, after seeing his parents die in a blaze. The priest told Bragolin he should have nothing to do with the boy, because wherever he was, fires of unknown origin would mysteriously break out; the villagers called him 'Diablo' because of this. The story goes that Bragolin ignored the priest's advice and adopted the boy. His portraits sold well but one day his studio was destroyed by fire and the artist was ruined. He accused the little boy of arson and Bonillo ran off – naturally in tears – and was never seen again.'

'Surely, that's stories,' the Doctor replied.

'You're the parapsychologist, Doctor, you tell me! Perhaps little 'Diablo' did die in a car crash and he is spirit still haunts the paintings.'

'Perhaps,' the Doctor replied, but he was not convinced. 'Now about that list I've asked for.'

'Ah yes, I'll just get if for you.'

Andy rummaged in a draw of a nearby filing cabinet and produced of logged calls reporting incidents relating to _Crying Boy _prints.

'I think you'll find everything in order, Doctor,' he said handing the list to the Time Lord.

'Thank you,' the Doctor replied, making for the door.

'Good luck! I hope to find something out in your research!'

'So I do I, Mr Watson, so do I!'


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

'Now what are we going tae dae, Doctor? Jamie asked.

'Now, Jamie the Highlander, we are going to find out whose name is on the list that Mr Johnston gave us but not on the list the Fire Service gave us.'

'Why, Doctor?'

'Because, these fires aren't just random attacks they've been planned by someone, over time with countless thoughts and plans, but whom? That is what we have to find out.'

'Aye, well what does yon list say?'

The Doctor held both lists in hands and scrolled down the names on each of them. Suddenly, he came across a name that appeared on the original list but not the one given to him by the fire brigade meaning that this particular person had yet to report a fire.

'Vera Jones.'

'What?'

'That's the name of the next victim, Jamie.'

'Aye, well how dae we find her.'

'Ah!' the Doctor paused, he hadn't thought of that. 'Problem, big problem, really big problem! No wait, the TARDIS can find her. Just need to give it the details and it can track her time stream and find where she is right now!'

'Well come, then!' Jamie cried.

DWDWDW

The Doctor began pushing buttons and pulling levers as he raced around the console like a cheetah chasing an antelope, muttering to himself as he did so.

'Vera Jones, what do we know about her? She lives somewhere in the town of Rotherham. She purchased a print six months ago. Her address at the time of purchasing the print was 48 South Street, the very last house, in the Rawmarsh district of Rotherham. Punch that information into the TARDIS computer,' (he pressed a button on the console) 'and voilà, we find Vera Jones, 77 years old and still living at 48 South Street, Rawmarsh, Rotherham.'

Jamie stood a little further off, feeling slightly nauseous as he watched his friend zoom around the console.

'Can ye no' slow down a sec, Doctor, ye making me a wee bit queasy!' he sighed.

The Doctor gave no sign of having heard Jamie as he quickly pulled a lever on the TARDIS console. The engines came to life as the time machine gave a quick judder (which saw Jamie hastily grab the console for fear of being sent flying) before de-materialising.

DWDWDW

When the Doctor and Jamie stepped out of the TARDIS they were surprised at what they saw. All the other streets of terraced houses had been so full of life. Women had stood in the doorways chatting, children had played in the back lanes and the occasional milk float, coal wagon or postman had been seen doing the rounds, but here in South Street there was nothing. The street was deserted, the houses appeared empty. There was no sound of children laughing, no sight of women talking outside the doorway. There were no signs of people around anywhere (not even any cars parked outside).

'Where is everyone?' the Doctor pondered, half to himself.

'Hey, Doctor, come look at this.'

The Doctor turned to see Jamie pointing at a sign. Coming closer he could clearly make out the sharp, harsh letters on the sign, which cut straight as black knives across the white surface. It read:

THIS IDEALLY SITUATED ESTATE, COMPRISING OF FOUR ARCES OF EXCELLENT BUILDING LAND AND SEVERAL RECREATIONAL AREAS IS TO BE REDEVELOPED BY HUTCHINGS & SON, LTD OF SHEFFIELD

'What does it mean, Doctor?'

'It means that all the houses are to be torn down and the whole area to be rebuilt.'

'Why?' Jamie asked clearly confused, he could see nothing wrong with the current developments.

'Progress, regeneration!' the Doctor replied. 'You humans, you're never happy with what you've got, always changing things, redeveloping things, improving things! It's what helps your species survive and it's brilliant!'

By this point they had made their way down the empty street. Suddenly, the Doctor stopped.

'Well this is a little different,' he commented.

In front of them was another house like all the others in the street. Red bricked with a small backyard which faced onto a back lane and a small lawn on the opposite side of the lane, separate from the rest of the house. However, there was one subtle difference about this house compared to all the others. Curtains hung at all the windows, through which could be seen ornaments and other belongings inside the house. This house was still lived in.

'Now then, I wonder who could live in an empty street?' the Doctor half pondered to himself.

'Vera Jones,' Jamie replied.

'What?'

Jamie pointed to a side of the wall, upon the wall had been painted the numbers 4 and 8. This was 48 South Street.

'Excellent!' the Doctor beamed. 'Come on, Jamie; let's pay a sweet old lady a visit. Maybe we'll get a nice cup of tea, oh, and I hope she has some jammy dodgers. I do like jammy dodgers.

DWDWDW

The image that greeted them was anything but that of a nice old lady. When Vera had heard the door bell ringing she had grabbed her walking stick and made her way to the door as quickly as she could. She was now jabbing the stick at the Doctor and Jamie in a threatening way that made them both weary of being hit over the head with it.

'Be off wi' thee,' Vera cried, 'I don't want nay more of 'ee council folk comin' round here! I told them others an' I'll tell thi an' all. I don't care what redevelopments thi want to do. I've lived here all my life an' all not leave now!'

'We're not actually from the council,' the Doctor stated.

'I don't care who thi are or where tha from! Thi can bugger off!'

With that she promptly slammed the door in their faces causing both the Doctor and Jamie to jump back in fright.

'Huh, did ye think all the women in this town are rude or is just the auld ones?' Jamie remarked.

The Doctor ignored him and, noticing a small cat flap at the bottom of the door opened it and called: 'We're not from the council; we just want to talk to you about your painting!'

Vera turned round to see the peculiar young man peering through her cat flap. The sight bemused her and she smiled but only for a second before her face became stern once more.

'What paintin'?' she demanded.

'I believe you own a kitsch print called _The Crying Boy_?' the Doctor replied.

'Ay, what's it to thi?'

'We've been investigating a spite of fires in the local area recently and we are just checking up on anyone who owns a copy just to make sure they're all right and that nothing unusual has happen recently, can we come in, Mrs Jones?'

Vera thought for a moment. She always knew there was something not quite right about the painting from the moment she had bought. She had better let the two strangers come in.

'Ay, thi'd better come in then,' she answered. 'Mind, if I find thi been lyin' an' tha really are from t' council you'll be out that door quicker an' greased lighting!'

DWDWDW

The persistent ticking from a small carriage clock was the only sound as the Doctor and Jamie sat opposite Vera in the living room. No one spoke. The Doctor slowly stirred his tea and wolfed down another jammy dodger while, beside him, Jamie shuffled in his seat clearly impatient to get things moving forward again.

'Do ye have a toilet I can use, please?' Jamie suddenly asked, his words cutting through silence in the same way his dirk could cut through skin.

Vera looked at him for a second. This strange, half wild boy who wore kilt and tartan and carried at least one knife upon him yet seemed such a gentleman. _A rare enough characteristic in young people these days_, she thought to herself.

'Certainly, young man, it's up t' stairs and t' first door on the left,' she smiled.

Jamie gave his thanks and headed on up the stairs. He stopped at the toilet door and his hand hovered over the handle. He didn't need to use it, despite what he'd said, but there was something not right in this place and he was determined to find out what!

Spinning round Jamie found himself faced with a long landing way off which was for white washed doors. He felt himself instinctively drawn to the end door. Slowly and silently he made his way over to the door and gently twisted the door knob. The door opened and he stepped over the threshold.

It was immediately clear that the room hadn't been used in years. It was dirty, dusty and full of cobwebs. Piled high were rows and rows of furniture and old knickknacks which should have been thrown out years ago but which neither Vera or her family had had the heart to part with. On the back wall Jamie saw a painting of a small boy clearly upset. It was the same painting as he had seen before in the department store.

Suddenly, there was the unmistakable sound of child's laughter and the door slammed shut. At that moment he began to smell the obvious smell of smoke. Something was burning! Turning round, Jamie could see a small pile of old rags had caught fire. The flames were steadily rising upwards, filing the room with the overpowering smell of smoke.

Instantly, Jamie rushed to the door and began pulling and tugging at the handle but it was no use. The door had been bolted shut, he was tapped! The flames were rapidly getting higher and higher.


	9. Chapter 8

Finally, here is chapter 8 for you all to enjoy!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 8<strong>

The flames rose higher and higher, engulfing Jamie, the smoke filling through into this lungs causing him to cough and splutter as he felt the smoke burning his throat and causing his lungs to constrict and tighten until even breathing began hurt. Despite the danger a small part of him couldn't help but smile the irony of it all. Here he was, a young highlander from 18th century Scotland, who had survived being killed at Culloden, one of the bloodiest battles in the history of his nation, or being executed by the English Army in the aftermath of the battle only to die in a back room of a terraced house in a town he had never heard of, centuries away from his own time.

'DOCTOR,' Jamie screamed in desperation, 'Doctor, please get me oot o' here!'

The Doctor, meanwhile, was still sitting in living room gently sipping tea with Vera. He glanced at his watch. Jamie had being gone a long time and the Doctor was worried. Surely, the young lad couldn't have got into any trouble he was, after all, just going to the use the toilet but then this was Jamie McCrimmon. If there was trouble to be found then you could guarantee the young Scot would find it!

The Doctor stood up. 'My friend's been gone a while. I'm just going to check he's ok,' he explained to Vera.

He made his way to the door and began to turn the handle when, suddenly, he felt another hand on top of his, digging their nails into him and leaving neat little crescent shaped marks on his hand. The Doctor hissed in pain, he turned and saw himself eye-to-eye with Vera.

'You're not going anywhere, love,' she hissed. 'The Sisterhood has waited a long time for your friend. Nothing will stop them now!'

'Get out of my way!' the Doctor cried his teeth clenched in anger.

He pushed her out of the way and raced up the stairs two at a time, yelling Jamie's name as he went.

The landing light flickered and buzzed, giving the whole place an eerie feel. The Doctor found himself facing four white-washed doors. Pulling the first handle he all but flung himself into the bathroom.

There was a white bath, toilet and sink but no Jamie.

'Jamie!' he yelled.

'Doctor, can ye hear me? Answer me, please,' a voice cried.

There was no mistaking the Scottish lilt in the voice.

'Jamie, where are you?'

'I'm in the end room,' he replied. 'Hurry, Doctor, the room's on fire an' I cannae get oot I'm trapped!

There was the sound of heavy coughing and spluttering and then Jamie fell silent.

'Hold on, Jamie, I'm coming to get you out!'

The Doctor pointed the Sonic Screwdriver at the door. The little machine buzzed. The Doctor tried to open the door but it would not budge. He used the Sonic Screwdriver again but still the door would not open. It could only mean one thing.

'I can't open the door Jamie,' the Doctor admitted. 'It's a dead lock seal. The Sonic Screwdriver won't work on it!'

'Please, Doctor, dae something! I ken I should be brave but I dinnae want tae die, no' yet!'

The Doctor exhaled. He couldn't let his most loyal and trustworthy companion, the one person who would defend the Doctor to hilt despite the terrible things the Time Lord had done over the years, die yet. Jamie was little more than a child. He hadn't yet lived, hadn't yet experienced love or the joys of raising his own little family, but this is what happened to those who travelled with the him, particularly the truly loyal ones, they all died young. For all he had (supposedly) had his memories wiped, last time round, Jamie had been lucky that he had survived his time with the Doctor especially as the young lad was prone to getting into trouble, with or without the Doctor's help. Fate had, at last, caught up with the Doctor and Jamie McCrimmon. The Doctor sighed; they all died young in the end and, no matter what anyone said to the contrary, it was _always _his fault.

By this point Vera had followed the Doctor up the stairs and was standing on the top of the landing. She was shocked by the horror and despair she was witnessing. No matter how hard she tried she couldn't block out the sounds of Jamie's screams as he pleaded and begged to be free nor could she shield herself from the sight of the Doctor as he punched the door in frustration that he could not help his friend.

Vera had been a life-long member of the Sisterhood, had taken the Sacred Oath of the Oracle of Pythia when she was only 11 making her the youngest person to do so. So committed to her faith was Vera that she had willingly left her home to live out her life on this back water planet under a false name and invented history all so that her people could walk tall once again but now, as she witnessed the horror of the scene playing out before her, Vera realised that her Sister's had gone too far. All life was precious and it was wrong to want to take the life of another no matter what the purpose especially one so important to their existence. Why would her Sisters want to kill the one they needed? A sudden thought came to Vera that it was not her Sister's doing but that of someone else.

'I'll call an ambulance,' she muttered half to herself.

The Doctor rounded on her, his eyes flashing with an intense anger and unshed tears. There was a danger in his eyes that made Vera jump back in shock. In that moment she recalled the stories of the Doctor from her childhood and, looking into the eyes, realised why the Mother Abbess had always referred to the Doctor as the Oncoming Storm.

'YOU DO NOT GET TO TALK TO ME!' the Doctor yelled in anger. 'A good, loyal, friend is about to die and there's nothing I can do about it. The Doctor, no, I'm not the Doctor. A doctor heals people, makes them better. I'm just a murderer! I take people from their happy, innocent little lives and throw them into a heap of danger without any thought for their wellbeing. Oh, they all follow me blindly, full of trust, wonder and faith for the amazing madman in the blue box but, one way or another, I lead them all to their deaths. I completely screw up their lives! So, DO NOT TALK TO ME!'

'Please, love, let me help you! What I've done is wrong, I know that now, let me call for help!'

The Doctor nodded meekly. He knew Vera was a good woman she had just been misguided.

DWDWDW

Jamie gave up yelling. It was making his throat hurt and, besides, there was no point in begging to freed anymore. The Doctor couldn't free him and he knew he was done for. As his body became weaker he lay back and listened for the sound of the McCrimmon piper, the ghostly legend who appeared to every member of Jamie's clan before they were about to die.

As he began to succumb to the smoke and his vision began to blur Jamie could just make out the outline of a boy dressed in a brown shirt with beautiful brown eyes and soft olive skin. In his dazed state it appeared to Jamie as if the boy had walked through the flames yet there wasn't a burn mark on him!

The boy began to mock Jamie, his voice as sweet and innocent as his features, yet dark and sinister at the same time.

'Poor wee James McCrimmon,' he said. 'He hasn't got no mummy, his daddy was too busy to find the time to love him and his dear, beloved granny, whom was the only person to show him any true affection, betrayed him and all for the sake of her own freedom.'

The words cut deep. How dare this boy, whoever he was, spout such poison about his dear Granny McCrimmon? She loved him, devoted her entire life to him, ensuring his childhood was as happy as could be for a childhood spent in 18th century Scotland. Instantly, Jamie drew his dirk. In the smoke it was difficult to know where the voice was coming from or even if he could hurt the boy but he didn't much care. He wouldn't get away with the vile words he had spread about his grandmother.

'What dae ye mean?' he asked, his voice hoarse from the smoke he had inhaled.

This question was met only with silence.

'Answer me!' he demanded, his hands tense as he held the dirk in front of him.

The boy smiled. 'You shall see,' he smiled, an evil smile which looked so wrong on such a young and innocent face, 'when the Sisterhood returns!'

Jamie was puzzled; this was the second being to mention something about a Sisterhood returning. What did it all mean? he wondered as his vision began to cloud over and everything went dark.


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

In a flurry of red and blue, several fire engines arrived on the scene. Without a word Vera let them in and hastily led them up the stairs to where the Doctor was sitting on the floor outside the room, his hand placed upon the door. Jamie had stopped yelling and for the last ten minutes there had been no sound from within the room. No heavy breathing or soft Scottish voice pleading for his friend to rescue him. The Doctor feared the worst.

'If tha just step back, sir,' the Doctor heard someone say.

The Doctor looked up and saw a group of firemen standing above him. They smiled a reassuring smile at him which did nothing to reassure him at all.

'Don't worry, sir, we'll have tha friend out of there in no time! Now if tha'll just step back.'

As though in a trance the Doctor hastily moved back a long the landing, he turned his head away as the fire fighters began to ram the door down. He was sure that they would find a dead body awaiting them on the other side and he just didn't want to see the image of Jamie lying so still and lifeless on the floor.

The Doctor's fears were confirmed as the firemen opened the door to find Jamie lying still and lifeless behind the threshold. He looked so peaceful. There was no one else in the room.

Cautiously, the Doctor came forward and, his voice meek and fearful, asked:

'Is he dead?'

One of the firemen reached down and felt for a pulse.

'He's still alive,' the man stated.

The Doctor breathed a sigh of relief.

'He's inhaled a lot of smoke, though, we need to get him to t' hospital, right now! Harry,' the man turned to one of this colleagues, 'send t' paramedic crew up here right now we got a teenage lad in need of urgent treatment.'

DWDWDW

The Doctor could only watch, helplessly, as the paramedic team checked Jamie's airways before strapping him to a stretcher and taking him off to the hospital in the back of the ambulance. The Doctor had wanted to go with them but the paramedics had refused, saying it would be better if he just followed on behind them instead.

The Doctor sank down on the pavement with his head in his hands. He knew that Jamie was in the best place and would get proper medical treatment but he had never seen the boy look so silent and so still before. He was not a religious man but in that moment he would've prayed to all the Gods of all the planets he knew if it meant that the young Highlander would pull through.

Suddenly he felt someone squeeze his shoulder. He looked up to see the fireman who had spoken to him earlier.

'He wa' lucky was tha friend,' the fireman assured him. 'Any longer an' he'd have been a goner. He'll get better now tha'll see.'

'Thank you,' the Doctor muttered still in a daze. 'I'll be off to the hospital now.'

DWDWDW

When the Doctor arrived at the hospital he spent a good ten minutes arguing with the receptionist who, initially, refused to let the Doctor see Jamie as he wasn't family. When the Doctor explained that Jamie had no next of kin and that he was solely responsible for the boy he had been led down a corridor by one of the nurses into a private room.

The Doctor was shocked by what he saw. In the middle of the room Jamie lay seemingly motionless, safe for the soft rising and falling of his chest, on a clinical, pristine-white hospital bed and wired up to various machines which were helping to keep the young Scot alive. Across his face lay an oxygen mask, steadily pumping fresh oxygen into the smoke-filled lungs.

The Doctor reached forward and instinctively ran his hand through the mop of hair on Jamie's head.

'Don't you give up on me now, Jamie,' he whispered into the lad's ear. 'I told you before that you're important. You're special, Jamie McCrimmon, there's nobody else on this planet who can do the things you can do, so just you hold on, ok.' He shook his head to prevent the tears from falling before continuing on.

'I don't know who this Sisterhood is or what they want but I will find out, Jamie, I promise. I won't let anyone hurt you, not anymore. I know that, in the past, people have tried to exploit your gift but that stops now.' He squeezed the young lad's hand. 'I have to go now but, if you need me, you just call out my name and I'll be here, I promise.'

As he walked out of the door the Doctor cast one forlorn look back at his loyal companion in the bed before making his way back to the TARDIS.

DWDWDW

The Doctor collapsed down on one of soft chairs in the TARDIS console room. For the last few hours he had desperately tried to solve the mystery of the _Crying Boy _curse but things made as much sense now as they had when he and Jamie had first arrived in Rotherham. They were so many questions the Doctor had that he could not find answers to. Who were the Sisterhood? Why did they want Jamie? Who was causing all the strange fires? The Doctor sighed, he didn't think he would ever find the answers to his questions but he knew he couldn't give up trying, if not for himself then for Jamie. He owed the young Highlander that much.

DWDWDW

The night was silent. In the hospital all was quiet and still, save for the constant beeping of various machines used to help the patients' recovery. All the patients were sleeping calmly in their beds except for Jamie McCrimmon.

The young Scot was tossing and turning fitfully in his sleep, clearly in the throes of some nightmare.

_Jamie finds himself on a dusty Mediterranean street with terracotta coloured roofs, sandy coloured walls and several beautiful arches adoring the entrance way. People walked along the paved roads or linger under a beautiful waterfall which sits in the middle of the city street like some grand centrepiece; a true piece de la resistance. Jamie gasps back in wonder for such a beautiful city he could never have envisioned back home in the rugged Scottish Highlands. _

_Suddenly, Jamie hears the cries of a frightened child, spinning round he sees a house on fire and a young boy with soft, blonde hair and tears in his bright blue eyes._

'_Help, help!' the boy cries. 'Somebody, please help my mama is trapped in the building and she cannot get out!'_

_At the boy's cries people rush around in a desperate attempt to rescue the poor woman from the stricken building but it is to no avail. The flames dance higher making in too dangerous for anyone else to enter the building. The poor young mother is left to her fate while her child looks on, helpless, screaming and crying._

_No one notices a young woman in a red robe watching the boy, intently. She is beautiful young woman with olive skin and long brown hair, which falls delicately on the pulled back hood of her red robe. She is standing in the doorway of the Basilica di Santa Giustina, a church dedicated to the Saint Justina, a Christian saint. A service has just finished, for the door of the church is opening and the drone of an organ can be heard dying away._

_The boy fails to notice as the red robed women moves towards him. Softly, she places a hand upon his shoulder. The boy turns and looks at her with his tear stained eyes._

'_Hello,' the woman says, she has a sweet voice like that of a nightingale, 'w__hat is your name?' _

'_Don Bonillo,' the boy replies, wiping the tears from his eyes._

'_Here, take this.'_

_She offers him a silk handkerchief._

'_Thank you,' he mutters._

'_Do you have anywhere to go, Don, any aunties or uncles who can look after you or a grandmamma, perhaps?'_

'_No, there was only me and my mama! The fire, it was all my fault!'_

_He begins to wail again, his body shaking with the violence of the sobs. Instinctively the woman pulls him close and hugs him. She smells different to his mother, classier with a rich, scent perfume that is clearly much more expensive than anything his mother can afford. _

'_Hush,' she soothes him. 'It wasn't your fault. You have a great gift called __pyrokinesis_1_ you just don't know how to control it yet and no one can blame you for that._ _ Come with me I have some friends who will be able to take care of you. They can help you control your gift, I promise.'_

_He gazes into the woman's eyes and is lost. He was lost the moment she wrapped her arms around him in an expression of motherly love. He gets up and follows her down the street, across the __Prato della Valle, and through the doors of the __Basilica di Santa Giustina before anyone had time to notice or care that the boy had vanished._

_Inside the basilica the robed women leads Don Bonillo through the doors into a large room. The boy marvels at the size and the grandeur of the room. A marble floor lies beneath his feet; the walls are painted a gorgeous deep red colour and adorned with paintings of various saints each mounted in a golden frame. Elegant chandlers hang precariously from the high ceilings._

_At the far end of the hall sits an elderly woman on a row of red silk cushions. She appears so impossibly old that the boy does not even attempt to guess at her age. Her face is winkled and lined yet there is something young and beautiful about it too. When she speaks her voice is as gentle as a summer's breeze. She addresses the younger woman:_

'_Who is the young man that you have brought to us, Anna Maria?' _

_Anna Maria bows respectfully to her Abbess._

'_Abbess Ohica, this is Don Bonillo,' she explained. 'I found him outside. He is an orphan with the power of pyrokinesis. I have brought him here as I thought he might be the One the ancient prophecy of our Sisterhood speaks of.'_

_Abbess Ohica slowly eases herself from her cushioned throne and begins to investigate the boy. She comes so close to Don Bonillo that the child can see every winkle on her wizened old face and feel her breath. She stares intently into his eyes and takes all his effort not to turn away from her intense gaze._

_At length she breaks off her glare and waves her hand, dismissively, a solemn gaze upon her face._

'_Alas, my child, he is not the one we seek.'_

_Anna Maria bows. 'Sorry, Abbess, I will dispose of him immediately.'_

_She grabs Don Bonillo by the scruff of his neck and, before the boy has time to protest, casts him out of the door of the basilica as though he were little more than a ragdoll._

DWDWDW

_Several hours pass. The boy wonders the streets of Padua, hungry, tired and alone. His stomach rumbles desperately but he has no idea of how to get anything to eat or even where he is._

_Suddenly, the face of a kind young man appears before him. The man is clearly concerned for the boy's welfare and enquires about his family. The boy explains his situation and the man is saddened._

'_What is your name?' he asks the boy._

'_Don Bonillo,' the boy replies._

'_Pleased to meet you, Don Bonillo, I am Giovanni Bragolin. Why don't you come with me?'_

_The boy is hesitant, remembering his last encounter with someone so nice, the man, sensing the boy's reluctance, assures him:_

'_I promise I won't cast you aside like the nuns did.'_

_Realising, he cannot stay out here on the streets and seeing as he has no alternative Don follows the kindly Giovanni back to his home._

DWDWDW

_The house was a modest affair its terracotta paint peeling from the walls. Inside, the house was equally as rundown with a stone floor (many of the stones were broken) and simplistic furniture._

_Don Bonillo looked around him, it was true that he and his mamma had not been rich but still they seemed to have more luxuries than this! In the innocent way that only a child could he asked:_

'_Are you poor, Mr Brogolin, as you don't seem to have many processions?'_

'_Alas it is true, my dear boy,' Giovanni replied. 'You see, I am an artist. In my home country, Spain, my talent was not appreciated in the way it should have been so I came to Italy in the hope to ignite the Italian art scene. Alas, it would appear my talent is not recognised here, also. Perhaps I should give it all up and return home to Spain.'_

_The boy merely looks at him with round tear-stained eyes._

_There is something in the boy's grief that makes Giovanni want to paint him. He grabs his paints, easel and paper and begins to capture the boy's raw emotion onto canvas. The next day Giovanni heads out to the streets of Padua, with Don Bonilla in toe, and his painting which he entitles The Crying Boy. When people see the boy and the painting they cannot help but marvel at the likeness and the way that Giovanni has seemed to capture the boy's very essence and emotion in his paintings. They lap it up and within months Giovanni has become a moderately successful artist._

_The years roll by and Giovanni's Crying Boy paintings begin to be copied and reproduced by other artists and start to adorn the walls of houses all over the world, particularly in the working-class areas of Britain. By this time, Don Bonillo has grown from the small, sad little boy into a sullen and rebellious teenager. He feels stifled by Giovanni's over-protectiveness and tensions begin to develop between the two. One night, in a pure fit of rage, his pyrokinesis (which he still cannot control) gets the better of him and he sets fire to Giovanni's studio, torching everything in sight._

_The smell of smoke wakens Giovanni who rushes down the stairs just in time to see his life's work going up in flames and Don Bonillo standing there with a bemused look on his face. Having nowhere else to direct his anger Giovanni takes his anger out on the boy._

'_What have you done?' he yells._

'_Please,' the young man pleads, 'I didn't mean to. It was an accident.'_

'_I knew I shouldn't have taken you in! The women in the city, they warned me about you, told me that you were an arsonist; a wretched fire starter! But I did not listen to them; I took you in and showed you kindness and this how you repay me!'_

'_Please, I said it was accident.'_

'_GET OUT. I don't want to see you anymore, just get out of my house!'_

_The teenager fled; he ran and ran until he was as far away from Giovanni as he possibly could. Only then did he sink down in despair and let the tears flow from his face. He was homeless again!_

_Suddenly, he felt someone wrap soft arms around his body and smelt a sweet, classy perfume. He heard a voice say:_

'_Shush, Don Bonillo, it's alright now. Just come with me, I'll look after you!' _

_The teenager looks up to see the nun, Anna Maria. It is she who is hugging him. He studies her face, carefully; to his surprise she looks no older than when he last saw her even though that was almost 10 years ago!_

'_Why do you want to help me?' he spat. 'You made no attempt to help me when your Abbess cast me aside when I was but a boy.'_

_She sighed. He was right._

'_I know that and I'm sorry. What I did was wrong but you have to understand that the Abbess was a very powerful woman I could not go against her wishes.'_

'_Then why are you here now?' he asks, his voice full of venom._

'_The Sisterhood would not let me have what I wanted, so I left their Order. Now, I want, what I've always wanted, to help you, Don Bonillo. I said all those years ago that I would help you control your power and I intend to fulfil that promise.'_

'_And what do you gain from this?' he spat._

_Again she sighed, if we are to build up any sort of relationship I might as well be truthful from the offset, she thought._

'_If you must know I need your help.' _

_(Jamie was sure that there was more to this conversation but something seemed to stopping him from discovering what)._

'_Ok, alright,' Don said. 'I'll help you.'_

'_Come with me, Don Bonillo, you have much to learn.'_

DWDWDW

Jamie bolted awake. 'DOCTOR,' he yelled. 'Doctor!'

A swarm of nurses burst into the room and tried to hold him down but he thrashed about the bed, twisting and turning while yelling for the Doctor.

'It's alright, Jamie, we'll get you a doctor but you have to calm down, now.'

Still the young lad continued to flail about in the bed, so violent were his jerks that for a split second that one of the junior nurses (a woman called Hope Angelo) was concerned that he was having some sort of seizure. She knew it went against all her training had taught her, but she tried to grab his arms in attempt to stop him from flinging about but the young Scot was much too strong for her to keep a hold of.

'Jamie,' Hope whispered. 'I need you to calm down, can you do that for me, please?'

'Doctor,' Jamie moaned. 'Need….Doctor.'

'We'll get you a doctor, I promise,' Hope assured him, 'but I need you to calm down for me, ok.'

Still the young Highlander continued to toss and turn in complete distress. He moaned and groaned, thrashing around so that he became no more than a flurry of limbs and bed sheets. Hope leaned over him again but he lunged out and, accidently, caught her on the nose.

'It's no good,' someone else said. 'We're going to have to sedate him.'

As if she had been waiting for the cue, another of the nurses brought forth a needle and gently imbedded it into the young man's arm before releasing the liquid inside. Within minutes Jamie's body began to relax and his breathing evened out. His eyes fluttered and closed and before long he had fallen back into a peaceful sleep.

* * *

><p>1 The ability to start fires with one's mind<p> 


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

The Doctor's head was bent over the TARDIS console, his eyes closed. Since he had returned back to the TARDIS, several hours ago, the Doctor had been trying to resolve the _Crying Boy _mystery but seemed to be getting nowhere, every possible lead he had seemed to just send him round in circles. In frustration, he banged his fist down on the console. Through the telepathic link that the Time Lord shared with the TARDIS he felt the time machine let out a cry of shock and pain and query what she had done to upset her dear Doctor.

The Doctor muttered an apology. 'Sorry Sexy, I know it's not your fault.' He sighed. 'It's just I was always rather fond of Jamie, such a headstrong, courageous young man. I'd hate to think anything were to happen to him. Oh Sexy, this is my entire fault! I should have left him where he was instead of interfering in his life again and attempting to unlock powers which were better off left undisturbed!'

The TARDIS sent him reassurances, she understood how fond of Jamie her dear Doctor was, and had always, been. How his younger self, all those years ago, had seen him as a surrogate son and how the boy, in turn, had seen that version of her beloved Doctor as the father he had never had.

Suddenly, the Doctor felt something ping. Reaching inside his jacket pocket he fished out the psychic paper, which he always carried. Someone was trying to contact him. He opened the psychic paper up to revel the message, which read:

_Doctor, please come quickly. I need you!_

For a moment the Doctor wondered as to whom could have sent him the message. It didn't take him long to realise that there was only one person on Earth who knew his name and, at the same time, was capable of thought-transference1 and that person was Jamie!

'Hold on, Jamie! I'm coming!' the Doctor cried.

DWDWDW

When the Doctor reached the hospital he walked straight into the private ward where Jamie was being treated, not even bothering to pause to answer the questions of the persistent receptionist who was demanding to know who he was and insisting that he could not go wondering around the hospital as he freely as he wished.

When he reached Jamie's ward he found a young nurse standing in the corridor outside of Jamie's room. She seemed haggard and harassed, as though she had been up all night and this made her appear several years older than she actually was. The Doctor recognised her from the previous day as she had been on duty when Jamie had first been brought into the hospital.

'Hello,' the Doctor said cheerfully, 'not sure if you'll remember me. We did meet briefly yesterday but it was such a hectic day. I'm Mr McCrimmon's next of kin.'

'Mr Smith?'

'Yes, that's right. I don't think I got your name, though?'

'It's Hope. Hope Angelo.'

'Hope Angelo,' the Doctor repeated. That's a brilliant name! Like the name of an angel.'

'It's good that you've come,' Hope said, breaking in on the Doctor's ramblings, 'we were wondering how to contact you since we didn't leave us a telephone number.'

'Has something happened?' the Doctor asked. _Please don't say he's dead, I couldn't bear it!_

Hope caught the expression of dread on his face and instantly knew what he was thinking. 'Don't worry, it's nothing like that,' she reassured him, 'it's just he had a rather distributed night. He woke during the night shouting for the doctor, which is not unusual for a patient to do, but every time we brought him a doctor he kept saying they weren't the right doctor and he became most distressed. I'm afraid, sir, that we had to sedate him in the end for his own sake. I was hoping that the sight of seeing a familiar face, such as you, would help to bring him round.'

The Doctor nodded before entering the small private room.

When he entered the room the Doctor was shocked to see Jamie thrashing around in the bed, his eyes closed. Every so often he admitted a soft moan. Around the bedside several nurses tend to the young man. It is clear from the bags under their eyes that they have been up all night trying to calm Jamie down.

Suddenly Jamie began to scream and flay. The nurses rushed to his side in attempt to calm him down; gently trying to soothe him but Jamie is too lost in his nightmare to register their touch as kindness, it was unexpected and frightening. Despite the fact that his voice was horse and weak from the effects of the smoke, Jamie began to scream. It was an unnatural scream, a scream the Doctor had never heard a human make before, a scream that no human could make; that no human had the power to make, a scream that sent shivers down the Doctor's spine. Through the scream the Doctor could just make out his name being shouted by the young Scot.

As if the sound of Jamie practically screaming his name had awoken some sort of parental instinct inside the Doctor, the ancient Time Lord rushed to the bed side, almost if he were unable to contain the need to comfort his surrogate son any longer.

The Doctor ran his hand through the mop of brown hair on Jamie's head, which was drenched with sweat.

'It's alright, Jamie, I got your message. I'm here,' the Doctor soothed

At the sound of the Time Lord's voice Jamie slowly opened his eyes and stared around him, wide-eyed, before taking in the sight of his friend. The young Scot smiled. 'Doctor,' he cried, 'you came!'

'Of course, I said if you needed me I'd come, didn't I?'

'Aye that ye did.'

'Now then, tell me what's been happening. I know something scared you, Jamie, I received a message on the psychic paper asking for me to come and I know it was you who sent it.'

'Eh?'

'I'll explain later. I want you to tell me what happen last night.'

A look of horror seemed to come over Jamie's features as he recalled the dream he had had the previous night.

'Oh, Doctor, it was horrible, such a terrible dream. I've had dreams an' visions afore but ne'er like that one.'

'Can you tell me about the dream?'

'Aye, Doctor, though I warn ye it wasnae pleasant at all but I think it might have something tae dae with yon paintings.'

As the sounds of the hospital equipment droned on around them Jamie preceded to explain the Doctor the strange dream he had had. When he had finished the young Highlander asked:

'What does it all mean, Doctor?'

'I'm not sure,' the Doctor admitted, 'but I'm determined to find out. How soon can you be out of here, have the nurses said?'

'Nay,' Jamie replied, 'they dinnae seem tae say much, Doctor, at least no' to me. Maybe ye would have better luck getting something oot of them?'

_Hum, I doubt it, _the Doctor thought to himself but aloud he said:

'I'll try.'

The Doctor made his way down the corridor in search of Nurse Hope. Eventually he found her retrieving a snack from the hospital vending machines. He tapped her on the back and she spun round in fright before seeing the familiar face and smiling.

'Mr Smith, thank goodness it's only you, you gave me such a terrible fright!'

'Sorry,' the Doctor apologised, 'but I was just wondering when Jamie was likely to be discharged.'

Nurse Hope pondered his question before replying: 'I shall have to speak with the doctor first, of course, but I see no reason why he cannot go home today. He is a strong young man and is recovering well, Mr Smith. It seems silly to keep him here any longer than we need to.'

DWDWDW

As the Doctor and Jamie stepped out of the hospital the sun shone brightly, causing them both to instinctively to shield their eyes from the glare, particularly Jamie who had spent the last day or so in the gloom of a hospital room.

The Doctor grabbed Jamie's hand and gently led the young Highlander through the streets towards the TARDIS, only placing the gentlest of pressures upon the Scot's arm as though he could break any second. Normally, such as action what infuriated the hot-headed Jamie but he was still much too weak to protest.

The TARDIS interior was warm and inviting after the cold, clinical and uncomfortable hospital bed and Jamie quickly flopped down across the seats in the console room and closed his eyes. The Doctor sighed, Jamie had a habit of falling asleep at any given moment but, the Doctor decided, sleep was probably the best thing for him after his ordeal. The Doctor smiled as he draped Jamie's battered flax jacket across the Highlander's sleeping form, as though it were a blanket.

DWDWDW

Slowly, the Doctor made his way across the back lane that separated the houses from the gardens. He had left Jamie still sleeping on the chair in the TARDIS console room and had set off across the lane. There was someone he needed to speak to.

When Vera answered the door she was surprised to see the Doctor standing doorway. Immediately, she began to ask how his young friend was feeling but the Doctor cut her short.

'I need to ask you some questions!' he stated abruptly.

'Why should I help you?' she replied. 'The Oncoming Storm, yes, I know what you do to those who wrong you, Doctor.'

The Doctor sighed. 'Look, if you really are generally concerned for my companion you'll answer my questions,' he stated.

Vera thought for a few moments. She really didn't have much choice but to tell the Time Lord what he knew. 'Alright,' she said, 'what do you want to ask?'

'What do you know about Don Bonillo and a nun called Anna Maria.'

'Only what the Sisterhood told me,' Vera admitted.

'Which was?'

'That after Anna Maria left the Sisterhood and was reunited with Don Bonillo, she spent years teaching him how to enhance and control his gift. He became strong and Anna Maria was pleased, poor Don he couldn't see that she was merely using him as a weapon.'

'A weapon, for what?'

'She became obsessed with extracting revenge on the Sisterhood, but first, she needed to attract their attention. She searched the time periods for somewhere to hide out and plot her revenge. It was then that she discovered that Giovanni's painting of Don had become popular in this period. She had an idea and began searching for someone in this time that was so desperate and filled with desire that they would be bribed and cajoled into doing anything she needed. She found that in Marcus Bagshaw, you see, his newspaper business was failing; his rivals were beating him at finding the big stories and many of his best reporters were leaving his company to join rival papers.'

The Doctors mind began to race. Slowly, the pieces of the puzzle were starting to fall into place.

'So Anna Maria came here,' he stated, 'to this time period?'

'Yes,' Vera confirmed, 'she came here and promised Marcus that she would help him to make the _Rotherham News_ the fastest selling newspaper in the city. With Don's help she began to start fires in the homes of all of those who owned prints of Giovanni's _Crying Boy _painting. Pretty soon, rumours began to circulate that the paintings were cursed and the _Rotherham News _began to report on the next victims almost as soon as the incidents happened.'

'So Bagshaw got his big story, then?'

'Yes.'

'But what Anna Maria gain from this arrangement?'

'What she wanted, the Sisterhood's attention, which is why I am here. I was sent to try and stop her but, alas, Doctor it seems I have failed in my task.'

She deliberately omitted to tell the Doctor that her other reason for being here was to bring Jamie to the Sisterhood and that once she had realised it was Anna Maria and not the Sisterhood who had tried to kill Jamie in the fire earlier she had helped rescue him in the hope that she could then have the opportunity to take him to the Sisterhood.

The Doctor gave his thanks and bade Vera farewell before returning to the TARDIS.

When he entered the TARDIS the Doctor found Jamie awake and sitting up in the chair he had been sleeping in. His eyes were bright and the colour had returned to his skin. He certainly looked a lot better than he had the last few days. He was alert and ready for adventure.

'Where are we goin' now, Doctor?' he asked as, once more, the Doctor began fiddling about with the buttons and levers on the TARDIS console.

'To pay Marcus Bagshaw another visit,' the Doctor replied. 'There are some questions he needs to answer.'

* * *

><p>1 More commonly known as Telepathy, it is the ability to communicate to another without the use of speech.<p> 


	12. Chapter 11

Yikes! I cannot believe its been over a year since I last updated this, 2012 was a pretty tough year which meant I had to put writing aside for a while and concentrate on stuff in my own personal life. That's all past now so hopefully I can carry on. I have one more chapter of _The Curse of the Crying Boy _to upload and I am working on the rest of this series, so hopefully not too much longer of a wait lol.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 11<strong>

Once more Marcus was stood in the room marked RESTRICTED ACCESS at the back of his office, he was agitated and his voice was clearly irritable.

'What do you mean your plan failed!' he yelled. 'You promised me it could not fail!'

Slowly, Anna Maria lowered her hands from her face. 'It would appear that we underestimated the Doctor, he is a more resourceful character than either of us anticipated. However, our little plan may have exposed his Achilles heel. The Doctor's compassion and love for his human companions will be his greatest undoing!'

'And what do you propose to do with that fact?' Marcus snorted; despite the deal he had made with this strange vestal she was beginning to infuriate him with her constant obsession with the strange Doctor and his Scottish companion. All Marcus was concerned about was his journalism business. This woman had helped him to build it back up and now it was on top again. As far as Marcus was concerned his deal with her was done. Now if only he could get rid of her but he had yet to work out how to make her leave his life just as suddenly as she and her strange child had arrived in it, so far now he had to resign himself to the fact he was stuck with her.

'I will do nothing,' Anna Maria stated. 'I can sense that the Doctor and his young companion are on their way over here. It is up to you to ensure that the boy does not leave here alive!'

Marcus could feel the blood rushing to his face, flushing his cheeks in fury. How dare this woman order him about like some sort of lackey? He'd had enough of this nun and her agenda; he was going to set her straight once and for all.

'Now look here,' he snapped. 'I've helped you so far but I will _not _do your dirty work for you! I don't know who this boy is or why he is important to you, and frankly I don't care! If you want the boy dead you can bloody well kill him yourself!'

'You forget your place, Mr Bagshaw; I made your business what it is today. When I first came to you, your company was just a failing, back street news office reporting on football results and cricket test matches. You were struggling to make a dent on your rivals and their readers. I raised your business from that into the media empire it is today. Now the _Rotherham News_ is the most read newspaper in the city! Soon you will be moving out of this small building and into a new office on the industrial estate, a sure sign of success!'

'I could have done that myself, I just needed more time!'

'In that case maybe I should show what would've happened if I had never come here given you what I have. I can do that, you know, those of us in the Sisterhood have the ability to see all possible outcomes; what has been, what will be and what could have been.'

Before he could say anything Marcus felt Anna Maria's warm fingers pressed against the sides of his temple. At first he thought that she might kill him but there was a flash of light and Marcus found himself watching a series of events play out before him like a movie.

_To his surprise Marcus found himself in his office staring at none other them himself. He was sitting on the floor curled up beside the foot of his desk. Scattered around them room were several newspaper cuttings. Coming closer, the present day Marcus could just make out the headlines on the cuttings which read: ROTHERHAM NEWS GOES INTO ADMINISTRATION and BANK FORCLOSES ON LOCAL NEWSPAPER._ _He jumped back in shock. How could this have happened?_

_Suddenly the scene flashed forwards. Now Marcus found himself in an alley way. It is dark, smelly and creepy. Suddenly a lone figure staggers down the street, a half empty wine bottle in his hand. The man is incredibly skinny, bones protrude from underneath his clothes which a battered, torn and stained and smell almost as bad as the alley. The man has a rough beard which looks like it has never been trimmed properly. His hair is also overgrown and slick with grease. The man takes another swig from his bottle of wine before flinging in against a nearby wall in disgust. The bottle smashes with resounding crash and the contents splatter everywhere. _

_As the man comes closer to Marcus there is no mistaking the deep brown eyes and hair. With shock Marcus realises the man is him!_

Suddenly, Marcus opens his eyes. It takes him a few moments to realise that he is back in the present and back in his own office with Anna Maria standing in front of him.

'What…what did you do?' he stammers in fear.

'Showed you a glimpse of what would have been had I not come here,' Anna Maria answered.

'God, it was awful!' he remarked.

'Now you realise what prosperity I have given you!'

He merely nodded.

'Then you will help me?'

'Yes, yes of course,' he stammered in reply. 'Tell me what you want me to do and I will do it.'

'Good,' she smiled. 'This is what you will do.'

DWDWDW

The Doctor and Jamie sat in the waiting room while they waited for Mr Bagshaw to call them to his office. Clare, the receptionist they had met previously, was on shift again and had buzzed up to his office. It was becoming painfully obvious (to everyone but the Doctor and Jamie) that she had taken a shine to Jamie and was flashing her eyelashes at the young Scot as she desperately tried to get him to engage in a conversation with her. Jamie was clearly uncomfortable with the unwanted attention she was given him and began glancing around the room looking at the clock, door, flower pot on the desk; anywhere but looking at Clare. _Why dae lassies always act like love sick puppies around me?_

'So,' Clare started, desperately trying to break the ice with the Highlander. 'What's the deal with the skirt, are you some sort of cross dresser or summit?'

It is no' a skirt, it's a kilt!' Jamie snapped.

_Oops, looks like I've upset him. Guess that's blown my chances._

At that moment the intercom sounded, sighing Clare returned to the desk and picked up the receiver. After several moments she turned to the Doctor and Jamie and spoke: 'Mr Bagshaw will see you now.'

DWDWDW

'Hello, Doctor Smith,' Marcus said as he shock the Doctor's hand, greeting the Time Lord as though they had were old friends. 'Please, have a seat,' he pointed to chairs on the opposite of the desk.

Without further prompt Jamie sat down, his hands on his lap. He felt for his dirk, as if to reassure himself it was still there should he need it.

The Doctor was much less hasty in taking a seat than his companion had been. He stood for several minutes before lowering himself into the other available chair, once seated he sat with one leg across the other and his arms folded.

Marcus smiled his smarmy smile. 'Why such hostility, Doctor, anyone would think you didn't trust me!'

'He disnae,' Jamie blurted out.

'You wound me, Doctor; last time you and Mr McCrimmon were here I was civil enough. Why ever would you think that I could not be trusted? Now, gentlemen, why don't you help yourself to a drink?' He indicated to a small table behind the Doctor and Jamie where a pitcher of water and small glasses had been laid out.

'I'm fine, thank you,' the Doctor instantly replied.

'Ah, but Doctor surely you are thirsty after all your hard work,' Marcus implied.

'I said I was fine, thank you,' the Doctor replied, briskly.

'Aye, well ye may be but I'm no',' Jamie remarked, getting up from his seat. 'I'm parched!'

The Doctor quickly grabbed the Scot's arm, forcing the young man to turn to face him. 'I don't think we should drink the water,' he advised his friend.

'Come now, Doctor, you don't think I'm trying to poison your companion, do you?' Marcus asked; a sly smile upon his face.

Before the Doctor could reply Jamie had already made his way over to the table and was readily pouring himself a glass of water from the jug. He brought the glass to his lips and, greedily, began to gulp the water from the glass. When had downed the contents of the glass he licked his lips, as though ensuring he swallowed every last drop of the refreshing water, before returning to his seat.

'I know what's been going on, Bagshaw,' the Doctor stated. 'I know all about the Sisterhood, Anna Maria and Don Bonillo. I know Anna Maria bribed you so that you would help her. Now, I want you to be straight with me and tell me what her plans are.'

However, before Marcus could reply, Jamie stood up and gripped the side of the desk. The Doctor glanced over at him, concerned, his face was flushed and he seemed to be struggling to keep his balance.

'Jamie, are you alright?' the Doctor asked, concerned.

'Doctor, I dinnae feel so good. I feel a wee bit light headed,' Jamie remarked before collapsing in a heap to the ground.

Instantly, the Doctor rushed to his friend's side, scooping him up in his arms he turned to face Marcus, a look of thunder upon his face.

'What have you done to him?'

A look of pure innocence donned Marcus' features. 'Oh dear, I must have forgot to warn him that the water was drugged, how silly of me!'

DWDWDW

_Jamie found himself standing in a long corridor. It was clearly an old building as the paint was peeling from the walls. Several doors lead off the corridors, though were they went to, Jamie had no idea._

_Suddenly, in front of him he saw a bonfire. A stack of paintings were being burnt and destroyed. Jamie panicked as he watched the orange flames dance in front of eyes. He'd just been rescued from near-death in one burning room and now found himself trapped in another!_

'_Hello,' he called out, 'is anyone there?'_

_The sweet sound of a child's laughter fills the air, seaming to come from nowhere and everywhere at once._

'_Hello,' Jamie called out again, 'who's that?'_

'_Jamie,' a child's voice called, the echo bouncing off of the walls, 'come follow me, Jamie McCrimmon!'_

_Suddenly a small boy stood in from of him. As if guided by some instinct Jamie began to follow the small down the corridor, which twisted and turned, on the walls hung pictures of Crying Boy paintings, each one alight._

_Suddenly, the boy stopped. Through the heat of the flames Jamie could just make out the boy he had followed. Behind him stood a beautiful Mediterranean woman with olive skin and long brown hair. She wore a red robe and was the most beautiful young woman Jamie had ever seen; he felt honoured to be able to bask in her radiance._

_As the child approached her the young woman instinctively folded the long sleeves of her habit around his waist; as though to protect the child from the coarse young Highlander who has disturbed them. _

'_The Highlander isn't too bright, is he Don Bonillo?' the woman taunted._

'_No, he cannot figure out how to stop us even though he has already been shown the answer. Silly, Highlander,' the boy taunted._

'_If only he was smart,' the woman continued. 'He would have worked out that you are interlinked with the paintings and that is how the fires are caused.'_

'_Yes,' the boy clapped his hands together with glee, 'and that if he destroys the paintings he will destroy the link and free me! And all he needs to do it is simple paint remover and a match, nothing more nothing less!'_

DWDWDW

Suddenly Jamie jolted awake. At first he couldn't remember what had happened and was panicked and frightened but, as his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he realised, with relief that he was back in his own room aboard the TARDIS and the memories of being in Marcus Bagshaw's office, of the drugged water and the strange dream came flooding back to him.

He was certain that his dream had provided a key to stopping these fires and knew he should inform the Doctor of what he had dreamt but he hung back in the fear that he was unable to explain it to the Time Lord. What if the Doctor would refuse to believe him, where would he be then?

At that moment he felt a warm, comforting sensation full of love and reassurance, yet alien being projected into his mind. Jamie could sense that, whoever, was sending this message was an ancient being; comprised of the very essence of time itself. At first Jamie was alarmed, wondering where the strange sensation was coming from but relaxed once he realised that it was the TARDIS who was trying to reassure him and telling him that the Doctor would follow his advice. _You are one of his most trusted companions. He'll listen to you, I promise.'_

Jamie marvelled at how she had spoken to him. He had communicated to the TARDIS before; in the past but not to his extent and he couldn't help but be awed at the way the words seemed to fill his head and ricochet around the room as the ancient time machine spoke to him.

DWDWDW

When Jamie found him the Doctor was lying on a board underneath the TARDIS console, clearly inspecting a piece of the machinery.

Bending down so that he could see the Time Lord, Jamie called out:

'Doctor I need tae speak tae ye, it's important!'

At the sound of soft Scottish burr the Doctor rolled out (on the board) from underneath the console. On the top of his head he was sporting a pair of aviation-style goggles that looked so ridiculous that it was all Jamie could do to stop himself from breaking out with laughter. The Doctor noticed his stifled laugh and turned to him:

'What's so funny?' he demanded.

'Ach, ye Doctor; with them funny glasses on yer head!'

'What these goggles?' the Doctor asked, pulling the goggles off of his head.

'Aye.'

'What's wrong with them? I like them; goggles are cool!'

Jamie merely rolled his eyes at that statement: 'If _ye _say so, Doctor,' he said, despairingly.

'Did you want something, Jamie, or have you just come to mock my goggles, which I happen to think are cool.'

'Nay, I came tae tell ye aboot mah dream,' Jamie announced.

The Doctor turned to face him, staring intently at the young Highlander. He began to circle the young Scot, like an animal circling its prey.

'Dream, what dream?'

'Ach, I'll tell ye aboot it if ye will stop circling, Doctor, ye making me dizzy!'

'Sorry,' the Doctor said, sheepishly.

He sat down on one of the TARDIS chairs.

'That's better,' Jamie replied.

'Now then, Jamie, tell me about this dream.'

'Aye, well what happened was…'


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

The Doctor and Jamie stepped out of the TARDIS and found themselves in front of a small decorating store. In the shop window was a row of paints and a several colour charts which had been laid out to form a wheel.

'What are we doing here, Doctor? Jamie asked.

'We need to get some turpentine,' the Doctor stated, 'and this is the place to get it from. Come on, Jamie.'

The Doctor ushered Jamie through the shop door. As the bell above the shop tinkled the shopkeeper looked up from behind the counter and then returned to his copy of _The Daily Mail_.

The Doctor began browsing through the various colours of paints on display while Jamie stood behind him. At length the Doctor turned to face his companion:

'Go on, Jamie; ask the gentleman if he has any turpentine!'

'Ach, Doctor, can ye no' go ask him yesel'?' Jamie moaned.

'No,' the Doctor replied, resolutely, 'I'm busy looking through these colour charts.'

He picked up a colour chart and began riffling through the pages, admiring several colours. Jamie rolled his eyes at the Time Lord before making his way to the counter, muttering angrily to himself in Gaelic, so the Doctor wouldn't understand what he was saying.

'Hello,' Jamie called. 'Can ye help me?'

The shopkeeper looked up from his newspaper. He gave the Highlander a once over and with, a look of distain, took in the grubby clothes and battered kilt the young Scot was wearing. It was clear the boy was not of his class. The shopkeeper sighed; it was so hard to find decent, middle-class people in these industrial cities.

'I've no business with ruffians like you, young man,' the shopkeeper declared. 'Either purchase something or you and your friend can get out!'

'Ach, keep ye hair on, ye grumpy Sassenach. I only wanted tae buy some o' that stuff what gets paint off o' things.'

'You mean turpentine,' the man drawled, clearly bored with Jamie, whom he had already decided was an uneducated lout, probably a miner's son.

'Aye, that stuff,' Jamie replied.

'Very well,' the man replied.

He turned away from the counter and made his way into a small room at the back of the counter. Several minutes later he returned with a bottle of turpentine in his hands.

'There you are, young man, that'll be £1.50 please.'

Eagerly, Jamie handed the shopkeeper the money before taking his bottle of turpentine and making his way over to the Doctor and proudly showing him the bottle.

As the young man in the kilt and his strange companion exited the shop the shopkeeper watched them go with a look of distain. As the returned to his copy of _The Daily Mail_, he concluded that the Doctor and Jamie were defiantly not his type of people.

DWDWDW

'Och, Doctor, what a bampot he was!' Jamie remarked when they were out of earshot.

'Yes, he was a bit full of himself,' the Doctor remarked.

'Full o' himself?' Jamie cried, astonished. 'The way he was carrying on, anyone would think he had a stick lodged up his a-'

'Yes, Jamie, I think that's enough!' the Doctor cried, before the Scot could finish his sentence. 'Come on, we've got the turpentine. All we need now are the paintings.'

'Aye, an' how are we going tae get those?'

'I've still got the list, remember,' the Doctor asked.

'Eh?'

'The list Mr Johnston gave us with name of those who had bought _Crying Boy _prints.'

'Oh, aye,' Jamie nodded, still not following.

'Don't you see, Jamie, we can use this list to find the prints.'

'Oh of course, Doctor! Now why didn't I think o' that?'

DWDWDW

It was a crisp October night in Greno Wood (which lies 13 miles west of Rotherham and 5 miles north of Sheffield). The moon, now full and bright, reflected off of the leaves which were already starting to float gently to the ground. Somewhere, close by, a tawny owl hooted and a mouse scurried across the fallen leaves, desperate not to become the owl's breakfast.

Suddenly, there was a strange metallic whooshing noise and a peculiar blue box appeared in an opening in the woods. The mouse scuttled into its burrow and the tawny owl flew from its perch in the beech tree. In the next moment two young men one in a bow-tie and tweed jacket and the other in traditional Highland dress made their way through the woods to the open pasture to the west. In their arms they carried a stack of framed paintings.

'Yes,' the Doctor said, glancing around at the clearing in front of them. 'I think this is a good spot.'

'Aye,' Jamie agreed, 'far enough awa' from the woods so they disnae catch fire.'

'Yes,' the Doctor decided, 'the last things we want to do is risk the woods catching fire and have the fire bridge out here looking for us! Right, Jamie, have you got the turpentine and the matches?'

'Aye, Doctor, what dae ye want me tae dae with them?'

'Burn them of course!'

'Eh?'

'You said in, your dream, that the only way to stop the fires was to destroy the paintings. The best way to do that by burning them, effectively fighting fire with fire!'

Still not sure what the Doctor was up to, Jamie shrugged his shoulders and gathered up all the paintings and placed them in a pile as though he was building a bonfire.

As he rose from placing the paintings on the ground he noticed some familiar figures standing a little way off. The sight of which made his heart freeze. There, standing close to a hawthorn bush was the small boy and the maroon robed woman from his dreams.

'Doctor!' he hissed.

'What?'

'O'er there,' Jamie hissed, pointing to the bushes. 'Look, that's the boy and the woman I saw in ma' dreams!'

The Doctor followed his friend's outstretched hand to where a small child and a woman in a maroon robe stood, the palms of hands clasped together in an inverted prayer pose.

'These are the people you saw in your dreams?'

'Aye,' Jamie confirmed. 'The wee boy; that's the boy in the paintings his name is Don Bonillo.'

'And the woman?'

'She is Anna Maria,' Jamie stated.

_So that's Anna Maria, but who is this mysterious Sisterhood?_

'Doctor,' the woman hissed; a subtle Mediterranean tone in her voice. 'Hand over the boy!'

'Why, so you can kill him?'

'I don't know what you mean, Doctor,' she replied, innocently.

'Oh, I think you do. For some reason Jamie is important to the Sisterhood – I don't know why but I will find out why – and you don't want them to find him. You will extract your revenge by killing the one person the Sisterhood needs in order to survive. It was you, using the child and the paintings, who tried to kill Jamie before, am I right?'

'So, Doctor, it appears that you are as intelligent as I thought you to be. It's a shame that you have to die now!'

'Except there's one flaw in that plan,' the Doctor remarked. 'While we've been having such a lovely conversation Jamie has dowsed the paintings with turpentine. All I need to do now is strike this simple match and through it onto those pile of paintings there and your little plan comes undone.'

'You wouldn't dare, Doctor. You know if you do that you will destroy this child! Ah, but then that is what you do, don't you, Doctor. You make these pitiful humans think you are out to save them but, the reality is, that you are the Destroyer of Worlds, the one who wiped out his entire species. Go on, Doctor, destroy the child, show you most loyal companion your true colours!'

The Doctor hung back, the unlit match poised in his hands, as though waiting patiently for him to strike it. His mind raced in turmoil. Did he strike the match and destroy the paintings and the child or did he turn and walk away. He had lived so long and done so much maybe it was time he stopped saving the Human race and left them to deal with their own problems, but he couldn't do that, could he? Whether he liked it or not he was their protector, their saviour, wasn't he? He stood as still as a statue, unsure what decision to make.

It was Jamie who effectively made the decision for him. He had seen the Doctor prepare to strike the match and had heard Anna Maria's words. He still didn't know what had happened to the Time Lords but he knew it must have been something bad to affect the Doctor in this way. He also knew that the Doctor's purpose was to save

him, and every person on this planet, from the monsters. True, Jamie may have been a brave fighter but he was just a humble Scottish piper from a time past. The Doctor was (and had always been) earth's great defender.

'Doctor,' Jamie hissed, 'light the match noo, ye ken 'tis the only way tae end this!'

As though the sound of the Highlander's voice had woke him from a trance the Doctor sprang into action. He struck the match against the coarse striking surface on the edge of the box. Instantly, a flame formed on the match head.

'One chance,' the Doctor warned Anna Maria, 'that's what I am offering you.'

'What if I refuse your "one chance?" '

'Then I will throw this match onto the pile of paintings and destroy your very creation. One chance that's all I'm offering you, a chance to leave this time period and return to your own time where you can ask the Sisterhood to forgive you your sins.'

'Never!' Anna Maria roared.

'In that case…'

As he spoke the Doctor flung the match onto the turpentine-covered paintings. The results were instantaneous, a huge flame roared up into the sky as the paintings burnt and melted.

As soon as the match had hit the paintings Don Bonillo had begun to feel funny. He withered and groaned in pain as an intense heat radiated from his body. His insides felt like they burning.

He turned to Anna Maria with a look of desperation in his eyes. 'Help me,' he muttered, weakly.

There was nothing she could do, however, and it was only a matter of time before he disintegrated.

Jamie watched horrified yet, at the same time, fascinated as the child seemed to flicker and die like a flame being extinguished.

'Come on, Jamie, let's go back to the TARDIS,' the Doctor suddenly said.

'What about me, Doctor, surely you can't just leave me here?' Anna Maria cried.

'No,' the Doctor said, his voice detached and emotionless, 'you're coming with us.'

DWDWDW

The TARDIS floated around the planet, Prometheus. It was a fire planet where nothing could grow or survive since there was no water or earth for anything to grow or live upon.

In the TARDIS console room Anna Maria stood opposite the Doctor and Jamie.

'So what, Doctor, are you going to keep me as your pet!' Anna Maria hissed. Jamie looked at his friend. There was a cold, harden expression upon his face which Jamie was unable to read and, therefore, couldn't work out the Doctor's intentions towards Anna Maria. Did he really mean for her to go travelling through time and space with them? Surely not, after all we had done?

The Doctor said nothing as he made his way to the TARDIS console, his expression as unreadable as it had always been.

Suddenly the TARDIS landed. The Doctor opened the doors to reveal a barren landscape wasted by flame and ash. He turned to Anna Maria.

'Go now,' were the only words he uttered. 'Out there, but it's so barren!' 'I told you, one chance only,' he stated. 'Since you chose not to accept my chance this is your punishment, to spend the rest of your life seeking out an existence on Prometheus, the fire planet. Rather fitting, don't you think?'

Anna Maria said nothing as that cold, harsh Doctor turned away from her and back to his time machine without uttering a so much as a goodbye. As she heard the metallic whooshing of the TARDIS leaving Prometheus for good she looked around her new home and, although it was a desolate place, she knew she should be thankful that the mighty Doctor, the Oncoming Storm had let her live when so many others had perished by the hands of his judgement.

DWDWDW

In a darkened room several women in maroon robes have gathered together. They formed a circle around a small effigy of their original Abbess, Maren. Every so often they could be heard chanting the words of the cornerstone of their beliefs; the Scared Flame, which the Sisterhood believed produced the Elixir of Life which would prolong their lives, causing them to live centuries longer than they normally would have.

Further down the corridor the woman who had been watching Jamie on a computer screen stood with the Abbess Elatha.

'It seems this Doctor was able to do what our agent could not,' the Abbess Elatha commented. 'Perhaps it is for the best, the last thing we need is rouge elements of our Sisterhood causing difficulties.'

'Yes', the woman settled. 'The Doctor has helped us, greatly, soon we will have the boy and the Doctor will have brought him to us. It will break both the Time Lord's hearts when he realises he has given us the boy on a plate!'

'Yes,' Abbess Elatha agreed, 'the Doctor will, unwillingly, bring us the boy and then we will extract the boy's soul and the Pythia will rise again!'

*** End of Episode 2 ***


End file.
